The Fall of Humanity
by Winkie4
Summary: A devastating new virus is rapidly spreading across the world. Dubbed the Green Flu, it ravages the major cities and forces survivors to band together against all odds. Featuring old and brand new characters, The Fall of Humanity seeks to provide an accurate retelling of the events of the Left 4 Dead games, bringing with it the utter collapse of civilization as we know it.
1. Contamination

_What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from._

_~ T.S. Eliot_

* * *

**Day 1. September 19, 2009. 7:08 A.M.**

4 months.

That was the length of time Eddie Tahoe had been holed up in his apartment. With several stockpiles of food and a water supply, he figured he could live in there for years. But as the last cans of baked beans were eaten through, it was time to go shopping again.

Eddie stood up from his computer and looked around his apartment. He never cleaned much, and it was clearly showing. Living completely isolated in an apartment for months? Not really working out for him. He put on a tattered coat, some dirty clothes, and braced himself as he opened the door to the outside world for the first time in months.

The early autumn breeze brushed his face as he made his way down Holly Street. The tall buildings of Philadelphia towered in the distance, and Eddie could hear the sounds and smells of the big city. It was quite noisy, often. He sped his pace towards the general store on the corner of the street, avoiding eye contact with the other pedestrians. Cars rattled past, and a police siren wailed far away.

Eddie sneezed again. This had been happening for a steady month now, not long before both of his hamsters had died of starvation. That hadn't been your fault, Eddie thought to himself, but it didn't necessarily matter. Eddie pushed open the general store door, and walked in.

"_Oho_! Look who it is!" a great big booming voice announced, and Eddie winced. It was Pete, the general store owner who had been supplying him with food for over a year now. Pete gestured towards the back door, and Eddie followed.

"I got your message. Luckily, the shipment just came in earlier this morning!" Pete pointed towards several large crates piled up on a trolley.

"Don't worry, now, I got your payment." He took a moment to sneeze. "Right on time, too. I might have to close up shop. You know, the economy and all."  
Eddie walked towards the stack of boxes, and began to grasp the cart.

"Whoa _ho_! Easy there, fella. You need some..." He sneezed again. "...help with that?" Pete asked. Eddie shook his head as he began turning the cart towards the door.

"No, actually, I'm good," Eddie began. "I can get it up on my own. Thanks for getting me my supplies, Pete." Eddie paused. "Pete?"

Eddie whirled around to face Pete. His face had a sickly gray color to it, and his eyes were bloodshot. "Holy _shit_, Pete, are you alright?"

Pete began to say something, hunched over, and promptly vomited on the ground. Eddie skitted back away from the sick, and reached forward to support Pete. "Oh, _man_, dude, you need to get to the hospital. It's not far from here, just a couple blocks over-"

Pete's head flew up to stare at Eddie. Eddie looked at him, and noticed there might be something else wrong with Pete. He had been fine just a few minutes ago. Pete was breathing heavy, labored breaths, and his eyes looked wild, darting around upon everything. Eddie took a step back. "Uh... I'm going to call an ambulance. I'll be... uh... right back."

He ran out of the room to the phone next to the cash register. Eddie dialed 911, and waited for the operator to pick up.

"_You've reached the Philadelphia Emergency Center, what is your emergency?_"

"Hi, um, my friend looks really sick. He just vomited on the floor and he was fine just 2 minutes ago and-"

"_Sir, I need you to calm down. Now tell me, what is your location?_"

"Uhhh..." Eddie thought for a moment. "I'm at the corner of Holly Street and-"

Eddie was interrupted by the sound of running footsteps. Eddie looked up from the phone cord and noticed several people were watching him make his call. The footsteps ran into the room, and Eddie was quite shocked to watch Pete do a volley over the desk, almost ignoring Eddie, and landing next to the aisle of snacks. He snarled and shoved it over, causing all the little candies to cascade from the shelves and onto the ground. Several people shrieked.

"_Are you there?_"

Pete screamed loudly, and several customers ran out the door. He attacked a woman standing closest to him, and she screamed as well, falling to the floor.

"Holy _fuck_!" Eddie yelled, and dropped the phone. Pete screamed at him as Eddie jumped over the desk, and swiped his arm towards him, cutting a deep gash into his flesh. Eddie stumbled onto the floor as Pete drew nearer, and started to crawl away.

"_Sir, are you still there? What's going on?_"

"_Help_!" Eddie yelled. He got up to his feet, and ran straight out the door back onto Holly Street.

"_Dispatch, 10-43 in Sector 92B. Possible 10-29H and a 240. Over._" Pause. "_10-4. Out. Sir, are you there? Can someone pick up the phone?_"

Eddie reached towards his scratch wound, and noticed it was bleeding. This was something out of a zombie movie. Eddie staggered back to his apartment. He had medical supplies and bandages there, he could take care of this. There was quite a commotion behind him now, and people were shouting and calling for help. Eddie unlocked his door, quickly went inside, and shut it.

* * *

NOTE: Welcome to the Fall of Humanity! This is going to be fun, trust me. For those of you already skipping to No Mercy or Dead Center, that's cool, but allow me to remind you that this fan fiction's main strength is its setting, an AU of our universe in which a deadly virus obliterates the world in a few weeks, and I think the entire experience wouldn't be complete without the setting. I got all the dates as close as I could. There is an entire new cast of survivors, although all the current survivors have their own stories as well. Make sure to favorite, follow and review! Onward, readers! To destiny!


	2. Green Flu

_You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty.**  
**_

_~ Mahatma Gandhi_

* * *

**Day 2. September 20, 2009. 9:06 A.M.**

"...more on the shootout in Los Angeles will be revealed as the situation progresses this morning. In other news, flu season might be starting up early this year in Philadelphia. Take a closer look."

The screen switched to a live video feed of a news chopper hovering over the city. Smoke rises from the streets, and police cars can be seen whizzing about.

"That was the scene early this morning after a previously unknown virus began rapidly spreading throughout the city yesterday. CEDA is on the scene, and has dubbed the disease the 'Green Flu'. They have said it is a highly contagious, mentally destructive virus that spreads through general uncleanliness. Actions to prevent the disease spreading include washing your hands. The Green Flu spreads so quickly, in fact, that city officials are looking to quarantine Philadelphia until the situation improves." The young blonde reporter flashed a cheery smile. "In the current state of affairs, police have reported 'riots' in the streets as of last night. I'm Sandy Burns, and this was your 9 o'clock morning stories on Fox News."

Eddie Tahoe groaned and rolled out of bed. He gingerly replaced the bandages on his arm, and threw away his old ones. The wound seemed to be getting less bloody, at the least. He might need to go get some antibiotics just to be safe, though.

A rather loud explosion from nearby rattled the building, setting off outside car alarms. Gunfire in short, quick intervals was still being heard, and every now and then he could hear a police siren.

Nope. I'm never leaving this apartment until the commotion dies down out there, he thought determinedly to himself. He laid back down onto his bed as the 'riots' outside got worse.

**Day 2. September 20, 2009. 11:42 A.M.**

A tall, thin brown skinned man stood inside a cavernous office in front of a window. Downtown Philadelphia rose high outside as police sirens wailed in the distance. The man wore a white button down shirt with a thin red tie, and held a cell phone in his hand as he spoke.

"So _please_. Do not tell me you are calling in sick."

There was a pause, and the man sighed.

"For god's sake, Ray..."

The man sighed again. "Ray."

"Come into work, Ray."

The man strode from the window past cubicles. There was only one other person in the office. "Ray, you're not gonna get infected. There's barely anyone here!" There was a pause. "There's more infected people in your condo."

He held his hands up, and said, "Okay. Okay. But, thought exercise, alright? What if it's _not_?" Pause. "What if this Green Flu burns itself out in a week? What if everybody got all excited for nothin', and the only two guys who stayed calm and kept this place _running_ was you and me? You know what we're gonna get for that?"

He sighed once more as he headed into the bathroom. "Come into work, Ray. Trust me. I got a _good_ feeling about this."

Louis hung up the phone as he muttered, "Lazy son of a..." He noticed another man in the bathroom. "S'up, man."

He sat down onto a toilet and closed the stall door. "Ahhhh..." He messed around with his phone a bit more. "Oh, god _damn_ it. How can that server be down _again_? I just fixed that motherf-"

There was a loud thump against the stall door. "Occupied, man." Louis said, and continued with his work.

For the second time, there was another thump against the door. Louis, now quite irritable, said, "_Hey_. Occupado. This stall is occupied. There is someone in this stall already."

There was now a steady banging on the toilet stall door. Louis stood up and yelled, "Okay, _what the hell_? Could you let a man take a shit _in peace_? I will be done _in a minute_. Just... wait..."

The man outside the stall door stood closer to it, so Louis could clearly see the black shoes right up against it. Louis stepped back. "...Your... uh... you okay, man?"

There was a rather strange gurgling noise right behind the door, and a large pool of blood splattered right up on the ground where the man had been standing. Horror playing in Louis's eyes, he jumped up onto the toilet away from it. He leaned forward, peaked over the door, and saw the pool of blood with a trail of hand prints around it. "Oh, shit..."

Suddenly, the man popped up next to him, after crawling in from the stall to the right. He grabbed Louis's head, and tried to rip him down from his perch.

"Oh, shit! _Oh, shit_!"

He struggled against him as the man opened his jaws and pushed against Louis's hands. Louis pulled back, and kicked his foot right into the man's jaw, screaming, "Get your _god damn_ hands _off_ me!"

Louis continued to pummel the man, spurting blood up everywhere. The guy leaned forward and sunk his teeth into Louis's arm, and ripped a portion of flesh off, making Louis scream in pain. Louis continued to kick the guy's face in, and eventually burst the stall door open, dropping both Louis and the creature. When Louis stood up, he realized with some degree of disgust that he had killed the man, as a large pool of blood surrounded him.

He staggered back towards his cubicle. The lights were off, and blood surrounded the body of the other coworker who stayed. The same window he'd been gazing out earlier was smashed, and another body lay next to it. Smoke rose from the streets of Philadelphia, and erratic gunfire could be heard close by. Louis sat down, and looked at the body. It had a bite mark on its arm, and showed a similar appearance to the man who attacked Louis just earlier. He glanced back at his own bite mark, sighed, and put his head in his arms as the sounds of Philadelphia rang in his ears.

**Day 2. September 20, 2009. 7:49 P.M.**

"I let her live with you for a _semester_, Wade. A _semester_ and she's _dropping out_."

An indignant man cried out in response, "Hey! I _work_, alright? _Some_ of us can't lie around the house all day."

The tall, middle aged woman sitting across from him responded, "'House.' Wade, you rent an _apartment_."

The man shot back, "_Oh_, that's right, Carolyn. You and _Kevin_ live in _my_ house."

"How. _Dare_. You."

And right in the middle, the young, college aged girl that sat between them said under her breath, "Ohhhh, _yeah_. Now it's all coming back to me."

Carolyn, the woman to her right, said, "Is this _funny_, Zoey? Do you know how _expensive_ college is?"

Zoey turned to her right and replied, "I had a scholarship, Mom."

Carolyn looked back down to her empty plate and said, "Regardless. We sent you to Aldrich to learn how to _make_ films."

"Uh huh," Zoey muttered.

The woman continued. "Not... watch them in your father's apartment all day. Zombies and vampires and... it's _trash_, honey."

Zoey looked up and replied, "Maybe it's research, Mom. If you believe the papers, anyway."

Carolyn threw her napkin onto her empty plate. "Ugh. _That_. It's a _flu_."

The man named Wade sat up. "Well, film degree was a gamble. We knew that goin' in. Now she can join the force like her old man."

Carolyn glared at him. "Wade, _stop_."

He continued. "You should see her on the gun range! Knows how to hold herself in a fight, too."

Zoey quietly said, "Right here, guys."

The older woman's glare intensified. "My daughter's not getting shot at by cokeheads just to keep the family business alive."

"Still right here..."

Carolyn continued, speaking to Zoey now. "You just need to _apply_ your..."

Wade was staring bug-eyed at the living room door. "...self," Carolyn ended, right when she turned around to face a pale gray man, face covered in blood, and staggering towards them.

Carolyn leaped back, and grabbed onto Zoey. "_Wade_. Wade, there's a crazy homeless man in your living room."

Wade jumped up from the table. "Stay away from him, Carolyn. He's got that... that _flu_."

The delusional man had blood running down his chin. Eyes bloodshot and rolling, he continued to stumble forward. "Hey," Wade began. "Pal? You've gotta _go_."

The man lunged forward, swinging his arms wildly. "_Jesus_! Wade! _Do_ something!" Carolyn screamed.

Zoey tugged on her mother's arm. "Mom, get _back_! Mom, _come on_!"

Wade pulled out a handgun out of his coat. "Alright, _that's it_. Last chance, pal! You hear me? I am counting to _three_! One!"

The man continued.

"_Two_!"

Suddenly, the creature grabbed Carolyn, and ripped off a portion of her face with a bite. Right then, Wade fired three shots directly into the man, killing him.

"Mom!"

"Zoey, call 911. Lyn? Sweetie, it's gonna be okay."

Carolyn lay on the floor, twitching. Zoey watched horrified, until Wade yelled, "Zoey, _call 911_! Everything's okay, baby. Everything's okay," he said to Carolyn.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god!" Zoey whispered as she sprinted to the cord phone in the kitchen. "Just hang in there, sweetie. I'm right here," Wade kept muttering.

"It's _busy_!" Zoey cried. "Keep trying! I'm right here, Lynnie. Just be okay," Wade continued.

Suddenly, Carolyn flew up, and brought her hand right over Wade's face, scratching him. "_Aaaaaghhh_!" he screamed.

"Dad!" Zoey yelled, running into the room. Carolyn brought down Wade, and rose up again, staring at Zoey, breathing heavily. "Mom?" Zoey whispered, and took a step back. "Please. _Please_ don't do this."

Carolyn rose, and prepared to attack Zoey next, when suddenly a gunshot rang out. Blood spurted from the back of Carolyn's head, revealing Wade lying on the ground, bleeding. "Lynnie..." he sobbed. Zoey said, "Dad, you're going into shock. Hold on. I need to stop the bleeding. I'll go get the first aid kit and-"

Wade cut her off. "Remember those zombie movies I used to sneak you into when you were a kid, Zoey?" he whispered.

"Heh. I remember how mad Mom got when she found out."

Wade continued. "You remember the part in all of 'em when they had to shoot the one guy before he turned?"

Zoey laughed, tears streaming down her face. "Heh. Yeah. We always made fun of that part."

"I love you, Zoey."

"I love you, Dad."

Zoey picked up the gun, aimed it at his face, and pulled the trigger.

**September 14, 2009. 2:48 A.M.**

It was the middle of the night. On a deserted, empty street, a lone man steps out of a busted window carrying a flat screen TV.

"It's okay," the large, muscular man says, "I'm a _cop_."

A police officer shines a flashlight on the man. "Okay, officer," he says. "And _why_ are you stealing a flat screen TV?"

"Um. It's... evidence. For a crime," the tatoo-laden man replies.

"Uh _huh_," the cop says, nodding sarcastically. "And _which_ crime would that be?"

The man squints in the flashlight's glare. "Uh. This one? Alright, don't shoot. 'Caaaause I'm gonna run now."

**Day 2. September 20, 2009. 10:54 P.M.**

"...and _that's_ why I'm going to prison."

The same vest-wearing, bearded man was sitting in a bar, surrounded by his friends. "I'm gonna miss you, Francis," a young woman said to him, hugging him tight. "Yeah. I'm gonna miss... you too, Becky." "Sandra," she says quietly.

"Whatever," he replies. "We'll have plenty of time to learn each other's names durin' conjugal visits."

A moustached man next to him pipes up, "Unless you're going to jail in another state, Francis, you ain't _gettin'_ no conjugals."

"Haha, yeah." Suddenly, he realizes what the man said, and loudly proclaimed, "_What_?"

"Pennsylvania don't do conjugals, buddy."

"God damn it," Francis says. "Next time I impersonate a cop, remind me to do it in Ohio."

Sandra tugs on Francis's arm. "Better not waste any more time, then," she says. "Come on, Francis."

They both step outside the bar and into the alleyway. Police sirens scream in the distance. As they draw nearer to each other, Francis pulls her in for a kiss.

The seconds go by. Oddly enough, Sandra makes a strange noise in her throat, and promptly vomits on Francis's vest.

"_Aw_!" he exclaims. "_Jesus_, Becky!"

She steps back in horror. "Oh _god_, Francis! I'm _so_ sorry!"

"_My vest_!"

Francis steps back and shrugs. "No offense. But this ain't worth risking my _vest_ for."

"Francis. Wait," she tells him. They pull each other close for a hug, when Sandra begins making another strange noise. She leans forward, and bites a portion of Francis's skin.

"_Ow_!" he yells. "_Damn it_, Becky! You puke on my _vest!_ You _bite_ me! What's next, you gonna take a _crap_ on me? When I go to jail in Ohio, you are _banned_ from conjugal visits! Okay, maybe _one_ visit."

Francis storms back into the bar. He sits down with his friends again, and is startled to hear footsteps drawing nearer again. Sandra jumps up, about to attack Francis just as he turns around to face her. "Oh, hey Beck_agh holy shit_!"

Right then, the blast of a gun not two feet away rings in Francis's ears. Sandra collapses to the floor, a huge bloody hole in the center of her face. "_Whoa_," Francis says quietly.

"That's what I'm _talkin'_ about," says one of Francis's friends, holding a smoking shotgun. "What are you talking about?" exclaims Francis. "Duke, you just _shot_ Sandra!"

"Nope," Duke replies, lowering the gun. Francis begins, "_Duke_, we all just _watched_ you do it, you-"

Duke cuts off Francis. "She was a _zombie_, ya idiot. I hate to break it to you folks, but this ain't no flu."

Duke approaches the window, and peeks through the blinds. He continues speaking, "That's just what the government _wants_ us to think. _First_ they tried to kill us with heroin. _Then_ they built the satellites. Then cell phones. Connect the dots, man. It was _all_ leadin' up to this."

He shows them the street outside. Numerous, staggering and bloody zombies trudge around the alleyway outside. "_Zombie apocalypse_. And you fell for it hook, line _and_ sinker. _Now_ who's crazy."

Francis smiles. "_You_ are, Duke. But you are right about _one_ thing. If everybody out there's a zombie... then everybody's zombies but us. Zombies can't put us in jail. Zombies can't do _anything_. They're idiots. And that means..."

Francis jumps up onto the staircase leading to the roof. "...we can do whatever the hell we want! An' if these things're tryin' ta _kill_ us... I know exactly what I wanna do. Duke! Danny! Grab that jukebox and follow me!"

The door to the roof is kicked down by Francis's boot. "Everybody grab a gun and a beer! The night's just gettin' warmed up, and we got plenty a' both! Danny! Where we at with that jukebox?"

Two figures carrying a giant jukebox up the stairs emerge. "Right here, man..." one of them says. "You wanna tell us why you made us lug it up _two flights of stairs_?"

"'Cause Danny," Francis begins, looking out onto the wasteland of Philadelphia. Hundreds of zombies roam the streets below. "...y'can't get a party goin' without a little _music_."

"_Jesus_," Danny says, staring out onto the streets. "There must be a _thousand_ of 'em..."

Francis whips out an assault rifle from his bag. "999!" he yells, blasting away at the horde.

"998!" The others join in.

"_997_!"

**Day 2. September 20, 2009. 11:13 P.M.**

It's late at night. An old man sits in a hospital room, staring at the wall. A young intern approaches him. "So..." the intern begins, stammering. "are you expecting any family?"

The man glares at him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, that's right. You..."

The intern stops speaking. "Um."

There's an awkward pause. "So," the young man begins again. "You're a veteran?"

"It's a Veteran's Hospital," the older man mumbles.

The intern looks embarrassed, and changes the subject. "It's actually a very common procedure. There's nothing to be worried ab-"

"I didn't ask," the old man cuts in, shifting his position on the bed. He picks up a carton of cigarettes next to him and proceeds to light one. "Oh, uh..." the intern stutters, "yeah, you actually _can't_ smoke in here. Sorry. I should have told you earl-"

"You a doctor?" the man interrupts.

"Um. No. Not yet. I'm a resident. Haha." He coughs. "_Whew_!"

"That like a nurse?" the man asks.

"Not... exac- it means I'm studying to become a doctor. Ooh," the resident says, wafting the smoke away from him, "Mister Overbeck, that cigarette..."

"Kid?"

"Yes, Mr. Overbeck?"

"Go practice somewhere else."

Later that evening. The old man is strapped to an operating table. Two doctors hover above him. "I'm going to have you count down from ten, okay, Bill?"

"Yeah, alright..." Bill mumbles.

The doctors begin attaching a nozzle to his chest. "Ten..."

His view begins to distort. "Nine..."

"_Eight..._"

In the peripherals of Bill's vision he can see one of the doctors vomit blood onto the floor. Several other doctors turn around, alarmed. "Sev- _seven_..."

A claw reaches up, and rips off a portion of the main doctor's face. Bill falls right out of his bed and onto the floor. A bloodied man rips something apart on the floor next to Bill. Seconds later, that man turns upon Bill, reaching to maim some portion of his body. Bill swings his foot up, and crashes it into the creature's skull. Bill climbs up, and runs as fast as he can out of the operating room. He bursts out the door, and searches around for a weapon.

Don't black out.

Don't panic.

Find something sharp.

Kill it.

Then _get home_.

He sees a surgeon's saw lying on the counter opposite of him. "Heh," he chuckles.

He picks it up, and slices the approaching zombie's face.

Minutes later, Bill bursts out of the hospital doors. The huge horde of the undead greets him. Fighting across the street, he hacks and whacks the zombies using his surgical saw. Exhausted and covered in blood, minutes later he arrives to his destination: his apartment.

He carefully opens the container next to his bed entitled, "Overbeck, W." He pulls out an assault rifle, military cap, jacket, and boots. Lying at the very bottom of the pile is an old photo of his friends back in the force. Minutes later, he bursts back out of his home, guns blazing, and hopes set on escaping the city of Philadelphia.

* * *

NOTE: A large portion of this chapter is based upon the L4D comic "The Sacrifice". It mainly deals with the original survivor's beginning story, and their time at Millhaven. I do NOT claim any ownership in plot of these comics, and that goes for the plot of the rest of this fan fiction, aside that which isn't actually canon, and that I have constructed. Review, favorite, and follow! Don't worry, we'll get onto the rest of the survivors soon.


	3. Plague

_It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society._**  
**

_~ Jiddu Krishnamurti_

* * *

**Day 7. September 25, 2009. 3:58 A.M.**

"You ever _seen_ anything like this?"

A gruff, muscular man stood on a walkway on a large, fort-like structure. It was pretty dark outside, and the trees swayed in the wind. The younger man on the right of him pointed towards the forest.

"Those... _things_ out there. Zombies, right? It's like something out of a horror movie." He shook his head slightly. "Any word on new survivors?"

"No," the larger man responded, and stroked his mustache. "Not for two days now. Command says we should stay put, and the Whiskey Deltas should leave us alone. Bullshit, really. We've lost _six men_ searching for more Tango Mikes now. We ought to just regroup at Echo. How's the doctor?"

The young man looked around for a second, and lowered his voice. "Not too good. He hasn't made any progress on a cure or anything. The guys at CEDA aren't doing any better. Don't tell the men I said that, though. An incurable virus doesn't exactly do _wonders_ for morale."

"Private, I'll be honest with you. If those men knew what we're up against, they'd have gone to Echo days ago. Our-"

Suddenly, there was a crackle in the radio next to the man. "_Rock, this is Rescue 9. We've recovered 2 Tango Mikes. Please advise. Over._"

The older man quickly grabbed the radio transmitter. "Rescue 9, return to Echo base immediately for testing. Do _not_ go through Echo. Over."

"_Rock, copy that. Out._"

The radio fizzled out. "_Damn_, Lieutenant," the young Private said. "There's still _people_ out there? This whole area is infected! I heard it's almost reached _Pittsburgh_ now."

"Son, people will do _anything_ to stay alive out there," the Lieutenant said. "We'll get more people after this, don't worry. It's just a matter of time."

**Day 7. September 25, 2009. 10:45 A.M.**

"Alright! Getcha face masks here! Do you wanna become a horrible zombie _today_?"

A street vendor shouted out at the passing crowd in Times Square, waving face masks in his hands. A sign above his stand read, 'Pure, uninfected water: $3.00. Face masks: $10.00.' It was a rip-off, but there were people lining up by the dozens. Police sirens cried in the distance. Several orange safety advertisements fluttered in the wind from the cars, reading 'Clean hands save lives' and 'Firearms possession is not permitted.' There was a general alarm about the pedestrians as they quickly went about their business.

"_Come on_! Just three dollars per bottle! Dontcha want ya family ta be _safe_?"

The next person in line was a tall, curly haired man with a scarf on. "Hello," he said in a slightly British accent. "I'll take one of those face masks, please."

"Alright! Good deal! Just ten dollars!" the salesman boomed, digging around for another face mask.

The Brit handed out a ten dollar bill to the man, and received a mask in return. "Thank you," he said, and begun to walk off, when suddenly he stopped. "You don't think we're _really_ in any danger, do you?" the tall fellow asked, and turned back around to the salesperson.

"Sure we are! You got any family? You can really keep 'em safe with more of those!"

"Um, no thank you, I'm good. All I'm saying is, about the evacuation points. Is it _worth_ it?"

The salesman seemed to seriously consider the question. "Ya know, I'm really _not sure_, pal. All I knows is, they got some kinda _sickness_ goin' down in Philly, or somethin'. Not real sure if it's gonna get here, but betta safe than sorry, am I right?" He chuckled a dry laugh. "I'm just takin' advantage of tha market, here. Hey! Can _you_ keep a secret?"

The British man looked around, and leaned forward. "Sure," he told the salesperson. "Alrighty," the man began. "I got this moychandise from them guys at CEDA! _Hah_! Can you believe it? They was givin' it out for free down on the corner of 4th and 9th! Hahah! An' here I am sellin' it for a _foytune_! _Hey_!" he began to yell, when the man began to walk away. "That's the business, kid. You don't get ahead of the others, and you'll never prosper. Take it from a pro like _me_, eh?"

Suddenly, there was a loud explosion from a few streets over. The street vendor ducked down instinctively. Several people screamed, and one guy yelled, "_Terrorists_!"

A police car sped down the road next to them, and collided right into a parked taxi. The glass shards sprayed all over the crowd, and the young, scarf wearing man ducked. Gunfire started to ring out from down the road, and somewhere in the distance a high pitched, loud siren began to wail.

The crowd began to surge and run down the sidewalk. A helicopter flew right above them, and distant explosions began to become noticeable. Several fires started down the road, and soon the tall buildings of New York City became shadowed by thick plumes of smoke.

The man still ducking low on the sidewalk cautiously rose up again, took his scarf off, and stuffed it into his pouch. He ran down the road towards Central Park, where the museum evacuation site was reported to be. Jets flew overhead, and soared off into the distance, abandoning New York.

Several gas masked soldiers ran past the man, who promptly followed them. "_Wait_!" he called out. They didn't respond, and continued sprinting towards the park. He slowed down, exhausted, and sat on a bench on the side of the road. Nobody else was stopping.

Just then, several people to his right screamed. Bloodied and ragged zombie creatures followed them, and one attacked a rather old, Russian looking woman. Nearby soldiers fired off at the zombies, and a large number of people backed away, fearful of being hit by a stray bullet. Further screams were heard down the road.

The British man rose once again, running towards the park, the trees of which could now be seen in the distance. Just then, a rapidly rotating helicopter flew right over them, and crash landed right into the middle of the street, exploding. The shock wave blasted the windows out of most of the nearby, deserted cars, and knocked several people to their feet. He kept running past it; rescue was just up ahead.

More zombie-like creatures burst out of a store window not 10 feet away from the man, and promptly attacked the masses. Horrible, blood curdling screams cried out in the air, as more zombies rose from those who were attacked. One spotted the Brit, and he stumbled right over a trash bag left on the sidewalk. "No!" he yelled, frantically kicking and attempting to pull himself up, but it was already too late. A gnarled hand clamped over his leg, and decaying teeth bit down into it, gushing blood all over his trousers. Crying out in pain, he kicked again, and knocked the creature over onto its back. The curly haired man stood up, limping on his injured leg, and tried to get away from the horde, but he could think of nowhere to hide. The infection was everywhere. People all over the streets were now succumbing to the deadly virus. He yelled out in horror, and attempted to duck into a store, but there were zombies staggering towards him from there, too. One of the beings grabbed his arm, and bit into it; another swept its hand down, ripping a hole in his jacket. Horrified, he tried to find some kind of weapon, but there was nothing around but bodies. He collapsed to his knees, and fell over onto the pavement, still being attacked by the monsters. The light left his eyes as he was left with nothing but the sounds of the dead in the street, ringing into his ears and breaking down his senses as he soon became one of them.

**Day 7. September 25, 2009. 11:43 A.M.**

A young, blond haired boy walked throughout the halls of Murphy High School in Mobile, Alabama. Spectacles rested on his nose as he navigated the corridors, passing by other students and lockers. A heavy backpack was carried by his shoulders, and he wore a blue oxford button down shirt. He walked for a little while longer, and found what he was looking for; Room 256.

He walked inside the classroom, where around a fourth of the students were already seated and chatting. A fellow peer waved at him, and he waved back. He sat down at the gray table as more students filed in.

"Hey, Eric," the fellow student said to the blond haired boy. The boy reached into his backpack, and muttered, "Hey Tyler. You finish the History homework?"

Tyler shook his head as he clicked a pen over and over again. "Nah, didn't have time. Didn't you watch the game last night?"

Eric shrugged, as he opened his binder. "Not really. What was the assignment again? I gotta do it before we start class."

Tyler laughed and swept his black hair aside. "Good luck with that, man. We've got _current events_. And don't forget about some kind of essay we gotta do on the Egyptian-"

The late bell rang, and a black teacher wearing a cute pink outfit strode in, closing the door. She sat down as the rest of the class continued to whisper. She flipped some papers over, and began speaking.

"Armstrong, Susan."

"Here!"

"Bell, Alexander."

"Here."

"Daniels, Patrick."

There was a pause.

"_Daniels, Patrick_."

The teacher began scratching down something, and continued.

"Delouse, Lillian."

"Present."

"Edwards, Thomas."

"Here."

"Fairbanks, Rachel."

"Here."

"Halloway, Eric."

Eric looked up from his hurried homework, and said, "Here."

The roll call continued, until the teacher had finished the list. She then stood up.

"Okay, I'll be collecting your essays that were due today. But first, we've got Friday current events. Susan, you're up first."

Susan spoke on Iran's suspected nuclear enrichment plant, a report from the UN. Alex told the class about China's promise to reduce emissions. Lilly was droning on about the swine flu vaccine to be made available in October when Eric's head began to nod off. It seemed like seconds later when the teacher was suddenly calling on him. He jolted up. She looked at him pointedly. "Eric? It's your turn. Do you have something for us?"

He nodded vaguely, and thought hurriedly about any news he'd been hearing about over the past week. He then stood up, and walked to the front of the class.

"Um..." he said slowly, glancing around at all the staring faces. "Go on," the teacher gestured. He cleared his throat.

"Uh... CEDA health officials have called the... '_Green Flu_' virus from... uh... Pittsburgh?... they've called it... dangerous, and deadly. They say to wash your hands."

Eric stood up there for a few seconds, and then made a move to sit down. The teacher held up a hand. "Eric, is that _all_? There's _plenty_ more news on _that_ subject matter."

Eric thought for a few seconds. "Uh, that's all the news article had to say." He then quickly stepped over to his desk, the teacher nodding slowly. "Alright, Ashley, it's your turn."

Eric sat there, running his hands through his hair as the teacher marked something down on a grading sheet. _That didn't really go very well_, he thought to himself as Ashley recited her Green Flu topic that seemed to go on for minutes, talking about the United Nations, and Philadelphia, and a whole bunch of other stuff that Eric should have thought up. But then, as he sat there, he couldn't stop thinking about what he had read through skimmed news posts about officials not doing their jobs, and flustered CEDA workers. He couldn't quit thinking about that giant red 'infected' area drawn on the map, growing by the hour, nearing Pittsburgh, Boston, and Washington. And if the United States of America couldn't handle a tiny little flu outbreak, then who could?

**Day 7. September 25, 2009. 8:50 P.M.**

"_Bloody hell..._"

It was another wet, smelly night in Southampton, England. Two workers peered into the holding area of a cargo ship that had arrived that morning from the US. One of them held a flashlight in his hand.

"What the _hell_ happened _here_?" one of them asked. The other shrugged. Blood was splattered all over the metal floor in the ship, and covered several metal containers. "Think I should call the cops? Might be a homicide," the other pointed out. Now the first one shrugged. "I dunno, mate, this sounds kind of _fishy_ to me. You think-"

He paused, and turned to his left. His partner was silently giggling. "Dean, what are you goin' off about _this_ time?" All Dean could muster out was the word "_Fishy_" as he continued to laugh. "Aw, mate, come on, _fish puns_? Are you _serious_? That wasn't _intentional_, you know."

Dean's laughter soon died down, as his partner silently shook his head. "_Fishy_. Come on, Dean, grow _up_. It's bad enough we have to _smell_ the stuff every damn night."

"Sorry, Paul, I'm just tryin' to lighten the tone. Give me a break."

"Yeah, well, I don't think _blood_ all over the inside of a bloody _boat_ is reason for _laughter_. Let's _try_ and keep our heads on this task, alright?"

Dean put his hands up. "All right, all right, just give me a minute." There was a short pause. "Alright, I got it. _Aliens_. Aw, now, come on, seriously!" he protested when Paul shot him a look. "Yes, seriously. Aliens. Why not? You got a _better_ suggestion, or what?"

Paul shrugged and sneezed. "Where's this boat from, anyway?"

"I dunno. I think it was bound from Philly, actually."

Paul's face lit up. "Oho! I think I got it now. There was a bloody _zombie_ on this boat!"

Dean began to laugh. "Hahah, now you're gettin' it! It's not exactly easy to be ironic about this stuff."

"No, no, Dean, I actually mean it. It's all in the papers, too. 'Green Flu Ravages Pennsylvania'. If that really is the case, then the disease was on this boat!"

And just like that, both of their faces became fixed in horror as they froze.

"_Bloody hell_."

"We should get outta here."

They ran up the steps onto the deck. Paul took a moment to sneeze, and stared out into the night. Their breath was visible in the cold. "Now what?" Dean asked.

"Mate, I dunno. I hope we didn't just make the infection arrive in Britain. Do you know how that's gonna look on our resumes'? We'll be _killed_ for this!"

"Jesus," Dean muttered. "Maybe we oughtn't say _anything_ about this, you know. Just seal off the ship, and cart it off to god knows where. You think the police will find out?" There was a pause. "Paul?"

Dean turned around to look at Paul. "_Christ_, mate, you alright?" Paul was doubled over, and coughing violently. Blood escaped from his throat and into his cupped hand. "Guh..." Paul muttered. Dean asked him, "You're not gonna go _sick_ on me, are you Paul? I'm not losing my boyfriend to some flu. Come on, mate, let's get you home. My car's _right_ over there. Why don't we call it a day, huh?"

Paul nodded vaguely, and stumbled towards Dean's parked Crown Victoria. They both entered, though not without another coughing fit from Paul. "Let's get you to the hospital, actually," Dean said worriedly. "Hell, you could just have a _cold_. They'll probably say it's fine." Dean cast his eyes downward, and cranked up the engine as Paul slumped over in his seat. "Let's go," Dean said, and drove off into the night.

**Day 7. September 25, 2009. 3:30 P.M.**

"Brian, wait, maybe we should think this through..."

A brown haired man carried several suitcases and threw them into a car. "No, Marie, we gotta go. _Now_. You've seen the news. That virus is coming here. _Fast_." He slammed shut the door to the SUV. A young girl and a small boy toddler sat in the back seats. They looked up at Brian inquisitively. "Uh..." he stammered, and looked at Marie. She shrugged exasperatedly and got in the passenger seat of the car. "Uh, kids," Brian began. "We're goin' to the Hershey theme park."

"_Yaaay_!" both of them yelled, and promptly began opening their fruit snacks. Brain walked up to Marie's window. "Hon, if this doesn't work out, we can always come back. It's just for a few days at your parents' house. That's not so bad, right?" She rolled her eyes and stared out the windshield. "Brian... sometimes I just think you get a little too worked up over stuff. You withdrew our _entire_ savings account during Y2K. On 911 you went _nuts_. Last May after the North Korea nuke test you told our contractor to build a _fallout bunker_. Honey, you're being paranoid."

Brian sighed and looked around the street. Most people moved hurriedly, but several houses had been deserted over the past few days. "Babe, I just want you and the kids to be safe. Now, we're not being paranoid by going to Ohio for a few days, now, are we?" She sighed. "Of course not," he continued, grinning. "We'll be there in a few hours. Now loosen up a little!"

He walked around to the other side of the car and cranked it up. Sharpsburg hadn't really changed much in the past few decades since it had been founded, but it was still a nice little riverside town. He pulled out of their driveway, and drove up the road. "Sh...oot," Brian said, glancing back at the kids. "Need some gas. I'll stop by before we go."

Minutes later, a Nissan pulled into the Shell station on main street. The Sharpsburg First Church was just across the road. While his wife wasn't much for religion, his parents had always been very religious, and he'd been pressured to be the same. He shook his head slightly, and got out of his car to pump it.

An old man wearing a cap and having several crooked teeth grinned at Brian while smoking from a cigarette. "Need a windshield wash?" he asked in a gravelly voice. "Uh, no thanks, I'm fine, man," Brian said, and continued to his pump. When the numbers read 30 gallons, he carefully retracted the hose from the car, and prepared to leave. "You're _gonna_ need a windshield wash."

The old man was still standing there, windshield scrubber propped up on his shoulder, puffing into his slightly smushed cigarette. "Pardon me?" Brian asked, about to reenter his car. Marie looked alarmed. "Trust me," the old man said, one of his eyes slightly off. Brian sat there for a second, said, "No thanks," and shut his car door quickly. He fastened his seat belt, and, under Marie's sharp orders of "_Drive_," he drove off towards the highway. Behind him, the old man was cackling and holding the brush above his head. Brian sped down the road, and entered the ramp heading towards Pittsburgh.

He had been driving for several minutes when Marie whispered, "Who _was_ that?"

Brian truthfully responded, "I really have no clue," and the subject was dropped.

Minutes later. Brian sped down the highway. There was little traffic on his side; there was a long traffic jam of cars heading away from Pittsburgh. "Glad we're not in _that_, eh?" he asked. The only response he got was a sneeze from Marie. The little toddler was already asleep, and Marie leaned her head on the windows. "Yeah..." Brian muttered.

Suddenly, Brian spotted a figure right in the middle of his lane. He stamped on the brakes, and the car skidded on the highway before slamming into the person. Marie screamed as blood splattered all over the windshield, and the car swerved before sliding to a stop right in the middle of the highway. There was a moment of silence. "Oh my _god_..." Marie whispered. "Is everyone alright?" Brian asked the kids. They both nodded. The toddler was in tears. "I'll go check the dude," Brian muttered, and undid his seat belt as Marie sneezed and nodded.

Just then, there was a bright flash of headlights behind them, and a loud truck honk blasted towards them. Marie screamed, and Brian braced himself as the truck smashed into the car's side, busting out the windows and throwing it into the ditch. Everyone was thrown onto the roof as the car rolled over, colliding into trees and sliding to a stop next to the destroyed truck.

Brian blinked as blood ran down from his head. He coughed and looked around the car. He'd fallen out of his seat, as he was the only one not wearing a seat belt. Marie hung upside down in her seat belt, arms dangling as her head lightly brushed the top of the car. Brian coughed again, and crawled around in the crushing space, searching for his children. He spotted the toddler safely upside down in his kiddie chair. When Brian's eyes traveled to his daughter, he saw that she had slid out of her constraints, but she was limp. He crawled over to her, and checked her pulse, and noted with considerable horror that she didn't even have one. Eyes watering and full of determination, he locked his arms and began pressing down on his daughter's chest. He did the air thing with the lips that he saw in numerous movies. Arms shaking, he laid her back down, and carefully released his young toddler from his constraints. He checked the pulse, and, with a degree of incredible relief, found one. He then turned his attention to Marie.

Marie was carefully let down by Brian, and he checked for a pulse, and found one. "Marie? Baby, I'm here. Wake up. _Please_, it's Brian."

She groaned, and looked up at Brian. Her eyes were bloodshot and full of hatred. "_Marie_?" he whispered.

With a scream, she reached up, and sunk her fingernails into his cheek. Yelling in pain, he shook her off and backed away. "Marie, _no_, it's _me_! Brian! I'm _sorry_! _I'm so sorry_!"

She crawled up, and snarled. He backed further away, and picked up his baby son, Kale. Kale woke up with a start, and began crying. "No, _no_, Marie, please, I'm sorry for this. We need to call an ambulance. I need to-"

She screamed, and leaned forward to bite Brian. He yelled, and tried to exit the car. Kale wailed with tears, as Brian found that he door was jammed. "No, no, _no_! _Marie_! Stop this _right_ now!"

She didn't stop. Brian kicked at the window of the door, and busted it open. Coughing, he pulled Kale out with him, and staggered up the hill towards the highway. Gunfire could be heard in the distance. He hoisted Kale into his arms, and backed away from the car. Marie crawled out of the car, spitting blood along with her. Eyes full of horror, Brian ran towards the traffic jam. "Help!" he yelled to the figures in the cars and standing in the road. He stared with horror and realized that they were all infected, as they staggered towards him. He ran towards a dead police officer in the center of the road, and picked up the gun in his belt. Kale started crying again. He stowed the pistol in his pocket, and sprinted away into the forest as fast as he could with Kale in his arms, running to get away from the hordes of infected in the road.

**Day 7. September 25, 2009. 6:18 P.M.**

"Oh, but on the _contrary_, Tom."

In a high rise apartment, a woman in a long red dress stood facing a glass window, a martini in her hand. "Oh _yeah_?" the black haired, handsome man named Tom responded.

"I should think so," she said with a smirk on her face. "It's a Friday night. In _Pittsburgh_. The big city. Let's do something _fun_."

Tom laughed and rested his elbows on the shiny black counter. "Oh _yeah_? What do _you_ have in mind, Scarlet?"

Scarlet looked out onto Pittsburgh. The bright lights shone from adjacent buildings, cars moving on the streets slowly. In the distance, across the two rivers, the sun set slowly. "I dunno!" she said with a giggle. "I thought maybe we could go to that new night club, near the airport."

"Oho!" Tom said with a grin, holding his own martini. "You mean The Edge? Yeah, I've been there myself. I think it would be _perfect_."

She smiled, and playfully snatched his keys from the counter. "But _I'm_ designated driver this time. I can't deal with a headache over the weekend."

"Got it," he said, smiling, and casually opened the door to the hallway. "Ladies first!" he said with a boyish grin. She walked ahead of him, red handbag held by the strap.

They descended in the elevator to the parking garage under the building. She exited, and headed towards his bright red convertible. He followed, and climbed in the driver's seat. "Hey!" she called, with a smirk. "I thought I was driving." "You are!" Tom said, grinning. "On the way back. Don't _worry_, I promise." As he began to turn the key, a homeless man called out to them.

"Hey! Got any spare change?"

He was sitting on a parking bumper. He coughed a hacking cough into his hands, and looked up to them. "_Ugh_," Scarlet whispered. "Let's go."

"No _way_, Scarlet," he said, and fished around in his pocket. "I got time."

He climbed out of the car, and handed a five dollar bill to the man. "Thank yeh!" the homeless man called out to him as he took it. He sneezed, and put it in his tin can. Tom walked away smoothly, and reentered the car. "Happy?" Scarlet asked him, slightly irked. "_Very_," he responded with a smile, and they drove off.

Traffic was terrible that evening. There was a large number of people hurried to get to where they needed to be. "_Jesus_," Tom said, sneezing. "I guess this is about that _flu_. Has everyone gone _mental_?" he asked Scarlet. She shrugged.

"It's all in the papers. They say it's gonna hit here soon, but I doubt it." She cast him a playful smile. "I'm sure we'll be fine, though, Tom."

He nodded. Several people were exiting their cars. "Hey, what the _hell_?" he yelled, slamming his fist into the steering wheel, making it honk. "We've got places to be!"

There was yelling down the road. The tall buildings of Pittsburgh, soaring above, now seemed menacing as they were trapped in the traffic. "Maybe we should park and get a cab," Scarlet suggested.

Tom couldn't even move his car. The traffic was bumper to bumper. And then, there was gunfire just ahead in the crowd. "Holy _shit..._" he muttered, and sneezed.

Several staggering figures emerged from the crowd, attacking and biting people. Several people fired off weapons in defense, but they didn't last long. Scarlet opened her car door, and yelled to Tom, "Come on, we should get out of here. People are going crazy." She stopped. "Tom? You coming?"

Tom was slumped over his steering wheel. She huffed quite irritably, and walked around in her dress to the other side of the car. "Come _on_, Tom, this isn't funny. Let's go." She jerked his shoulders. "Come _on_, Tom, let's _go_!"

He began shuddering, and vomit spilled out of his mouth and onto the steering wheel. She backed away, disgusted. "_Ugh_. Tom, _what's_ the _matter_ with you? Are you _sick_?" She suddenly thought with horror of the Green Flu epidemic. "Tom, we need to get you to the hospital. Let's go, before-"

He slowly cast his gaze upon her, and snapped his teeth at her arm. She backed away further. "_Tom_! _Stop it_!"

He snarled, and reached out at her. She looked at the incoming crowd of monsters, and back at him. "I'm sorry Tom. I'm leaving."

She stomped away in a huff, lifting up her dress so she could walk properly. As the incoming infected horde approached, several gas masked military soldiers moved past her quickly. She spun around, and watched as they rapidly shot the zombies. Tom was shot in the process.

"_No_!" she screamed, and began to yank at one of the soldier's arms. He spun around on her, and fired once at her directly in the stomach. She choked, and fell onto the pavement. One of the other soldiers began waving his arms and jerking his head slightly at the soldier who shot her. Blood spilled out of her mouth, and she crawled away towards a dropped assault rifle next to a doorstep. Picking it up slowly, she opened fire on all three of the soldiers. Seconds later, all three of them lie dead on the sidewalk, blood encircling their corpses. She stared in horror at them, and sprinted off into the city, carrying the gun with her.

* * *

NOTE: I changed the town name "Riverside" to "Sharpsburg". I want all the towns in this fan fiction to be their real life counterparts, and the real life town in the location of Riverside is Sharpsburg, Pennsylvania. Read! Review! Follow! _Faaavorite_!


	4. Mandatory Evacuation

_The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places._**  
**

_~ Ernest Hemingway_

* * *

**Day 11. September 29, 2009. 6:10 A.M.**

The early morning sun shone in through a window. Birds chirped outside, and a shadow holding a military rifle slides across the rays. An old, uniformed man sat in a chair, inspecting his years-old computer. There was a knock on the door, and a young military officer popped in, holding a file.

"Lieutenant! We just got a message from _command_!"

The gruff, old lieutenant spun around in his swivel chair. "Well, I'll be damned. I thought they were 'fraid to speak to us now. What does it say, Private?"

The young private pulled out a manila folder and read from it. "'This is Central to Millhaven. Stay where you are for the time being. Continue taking in Tango Mikes for testing. We are ordering a civilian evacuation for the northeast. Once again, stay where you are until we give you the go ahead. Out.'" The private looks up. "That's all it says. We haven't gotten any new survivors for _four days_ now."

The lieutenant thoughtfully stroked his stubble. "Tell them haven't found any new Tango Mikes, and that the Whiskey Deltas here are acting stranger than they ever have. Have you-"

The private respectfully held up his hand, and the lieutenant's nostrils flared. The private began, "But that's not all. They closed the radio channel _immediately_ after the message. We can't even radio them _back_. Echo has had the same happen to them. What's going on?"

The lieutenant stood up and walked right out of the door, the private following him. The sun barely peeked over the pine trees swaying in the cool autumn breeze, and armed guards walked around the perimeter. The days went by slowly, and the current lack of any new survivors was steadily breaking down morale. The lieutenant even contemplating faking a survivor rescue just so the team would get their hopes a little higher.

"Private, we are at _war_. We don't know much about the enemy. It's been mutating. It attacks the _very foundation_ of our great nation. It's wearing down our allies, currently. And there are the _traitors_." The lieutenant rubbed his forehead. "The _carriers_. Secretly spreading the disease all over the country. We can't take any more risks. We are fighting for _humanity_!"

The private stood up straight, quite confused now. The lieutenant shook his head. "Never mind, private. Let's head down for some breakfast."

**Day 11. September 29, 2009. 8:43 A.M.**

A tall man in a gray suit speaking into a cell phone stood in front of a tall framed window. The city of San Francisco stood tall and proud against the horizon, and the morning sun shone brilliantly over the landscape. In the distance, the man could make out the golden gate bridge.

"Alright. I suppose we really don't have any other options."

The man turned around, cleared his throat, and continued to speak. "Yes, I understand. We must take all necessary precautions." He sighed. "Thank you, Mr. Burke."

He switched off his iPhone, and sat down at his desk. The name card on his desk read "Dr. Tom Frieden". And intricately woven into the carpet in front of his desk read the word "CEDA".

A young teen sat on the couch opposite to his desk. "Who was that, dad?" she asked.

Tom looked up. "Oh... uh, nobody, Allison." Allison's eyebrow rose. "Was it the government?" she asked.

Tom chuckled, and looked back down to his work. "No, sweetie, the _entire_ US government did _not_ just call me. That was Mr. Burke. Remember, you met him a few months back during the Fourth of July Ball."

"Oh," she said, thinking. "Then why were you hesitant to tell me who it was?"

Tom paused, hesitated, and responded, "Well, I'm afraid it was the _news_ he gave me."

"It's about the flu, isn't it?"

Tom stood up from his desk, and moved back towards the window. "Well, _yes_, it was. You know I've been extremely busy this last week. I just-"

She abruptly interrupted him. "Dad, I know all about the flu. It's spread all the way to Maryland now. Is it true that-"

It was Tom's turn to interrupt her now. "I just talked to Mr. Burke about some very important matters, honey. I..." he hesitated again, and continued speaking. "I just gave him the go ahead to shut down the airports and shipping ports. Don't worry, _only_ temporary. We're just trying to stop it from reaching the rest of the world."

Allison looked at him strangely. "Dad, it's _already_ reached Britain. It's was all over the news the other day."

Tom sighed, and sat down again. He looked much, much older since the last time Allison saw him. "Yes, and your father had a lot to deal with over that." He gazed up at her. "This is just _such_ a terrible situation. We've never seen anything _like_ this." He seemed to be speaking to himself now. "We don't even know where it's _come from_. It could be bio-terrorism. I have no clue. Just..." he searched for the words. "...why _me_, though? I wonder, why did it have to start _right_ in the center of Philadelphia? What are the odds of it appearing in one of the _largest countries_ of our time? I... I ordered a mandatory evacuation of the north east the other day, but everybody is staying put. People think it's just another _flu_." He put his head in his arms. "I just don't know what to do anymore."

Allison stared at him, and awkwardly put her hand on his arm. "Don't worry, Dad, I'm sure it will get better soon." She stared back out into the bright sunlight shining through the window, and sighed.

**Day 11. September 29, 2009. 2:43 P.M.**

"Alright, now! Y'all better make them push-ups _count_!"

A heavyweight, bald black man stood at the edge of a large football field as two dozen young teens in football padding did push-ups in the hot southern sun. The man waved his hand. "Okay, I think that does it for warm ups! Y'all head on down to coach Johnson for your drills."

The freshmen ran off across the field, and away from the coach. He coughed, sighed, and sat down on a bench, pulling out a Gatorade to quench his thirst. One of the other coaches walked over to join him.

"Hey, Coach," the new man said, sitting right beside the coach. "Sure is _hot_ out here. Hey, you don't got any more of them Gatorades, do ya?" He laughed heartily. "Nah," Coach said. "I figured the weather might be coolin' down soon, but, you know, what are you supposed to expect for Savannah, yeah?" He chuckled. The other coach piped up. "Oh, yeah, Coach, I thought you might wanna come along with us to the Bulldog's game this Friday. They're playin' LSU! Hah! We'll whoop 'em good!"

Coach laughed. "Haha, ain't that right! Yeah, I'd be mighty happy to go. I, uh, gotta get back before the weekend is over, though, you know." The other coach shot him a look. "Man, we'll be in an' outta there before ya _know it_. A game like _this_ don't come every day, now. We'll be in touch, a'ight, Coach?"

Coach nodded, and said, "Yeah, I hear you, man. See you around."

"See ya, buddy!"

Coach stood up in the sun, and wiped his face with a dirty rag. The freshmen were sprinting all the way around the track. When they passed Coach, he gave them a thumbs, up, and hi-fived several of them. Before long, it was already time for the kids to pack up. As the sun set, coach Johnson waved Coach over.

"Nice job today, man," Coach said, waving at the kids as they walked. "Yeah, no shit, man," Johnson muttered. "I swear to sweet Jesus, the school board was _actually_ talkin' about shuttin' down the _school_ next week, if the infection gets any closer." "Damn," Coach swore. "I didn't even know it was that bad. I mean," Coach explained, "I'd heard about the news and everything, but, _shit_... this thing's gone on for almost _two weeks_ now. How bad is it gonna _get_?"

Johnson shook his head as he pulled something out of his pocket. "Well, listen, man, if it ever goes to hell down here... call me." He handed Coach a business card. "I can hook you up with some supplies if it gets too bad." Coach eyed the card for a moment, and accepted it, putting it into his pocket. "Thanks, man," Coach said. Johnson straightened up. "Well," Johnson began, "I'd better head on home. Clarissa is makin' lasagna tonight, and I'd hate to turn her down." He began walking to his car. Coach called after him, "Here's to hoping I don't gotta use this card, yeah?" Johnson laughed after him.

**Day 11. September 29, 2009. 11:29 P.M.**

A scrawny faced, black haired man sat in a bar. He wore several rings, and what appeared to be a grimy white suit. In front of him, several people were playing at a pool table. A big, burly man versus a little guy not unlike the white suited man himself. The big guy stepped up, and carefully aimed his cue stick directly at the 14 ball. There was a quiet silence.

"Hey, try not to hurt your head tryin' to hit the ball, yeah?" the white suited man yelled in a wiseguy Boston accent at the strong guy. The guy grimaced, and squinted as he lined up the shot just right. With two cracks, he hit the cue ball into the hole and smacked his head into the overhead lamp. The two younger guys began laughing heartily, as the man threw down his cue stick and sized them up.

"Aw man," said the other little guy, "havin' a bit of trouble there? Dude, you just _ruined_ your chances of ever gettin' 'head of me! Ain't that right, Nick?"

The white suited man, still chuckling, said, "Yeah, you might wanna try aiming the _stick_ next time. And, you know, watch your head while you're at it!"

The lamp still swung precariously overhead. The burly guy quickly reached into his back pocket and pulled out a combat knife, and slowly backed away.

Nick reached for his pocket, and held his other arm out. "Whoa, _easy_ there, pal. Just take a breather."

Nick's friend began to laugh again. "Yeah," he laughed, "then just squint your eyes, hold yer breath and swing that golf club of a cue stick and hope to _god_ that you hit the ball! Hahaaa!"

Nick shot his friend a look. "Shut _up_, Lenny." He looked up at the guy, who was slowly beginning to advance again, knife held at the ready. "Come on, let's jus-"

Suddenly, the big guy sliced his knife through the air towards Lenny. Lenny hollered, jumped back, and yelled, "You _prick_!"

Alarmed, Nick quickly darted over to the door, and began to pull Lenny's arm towards it. "Come on, you dumbass, let's get goin'! We'll find somewhere else." Lenny continued to kick and scream at the guy, as Nick steadily tugged him towards the back door. He shut the door, and turned around to face Lenny. "Just what the _hell_ were you _doin'_ back there?" he yelled at Lenny. "You could'a gotten us _shot_!" Lenny frowned at Nick. "Man, he was _askin'_ for it. You had yer gun. You could'a just shot him first."

Nick ran his hands through his greased black hair. "Yeah, and gotten _arrested_ while I'm at it, too!" He sighed, and looked towards the ground. "I'm gonna be goin' out of town.

Lenny looked up at Nick, and frowned again. "What? Why, man? We were _dominatin'_ the games so far!"

Nick continued to stare at the ground. "Man, it's just, Atlanta is too _dangerous_. The people here know the game. They know how to win. I'm looking for _cash_, not a good game. I was thinking, maybe, I could..." Nick's eyes darted around. "I was thinking of hitting up Savannah. You know they've got a _ton_ of tourists on gambling boats and stuff. It would be an easy target."

Lenny sighed. "Man, you _know_ I got my ma up here. I can just leave her like that."

Nick looked up at Lenny. "I'm sorry, man. It's just not worth the risk up here."

Nick turned around, and walked down the alley towards the street. The tall buildings of Atlanta glowed in the distance, and several orange CEDA safety posters fluttered in the wind.

* * *

NOTE: PM me if you ever spot any spelling or grammar mistakes in my stories, try not to put it in the reviews, it clogs it up. Anyway, we're coming up to the actual video game now! Updates usually come every four days at the latest. Read! Follow! Favorite! REVIEW! It makes me happy when people do those, though not necessarily in that order. Except for the reading part. I would suggest reading it before the other three.


	5. Mutation

_'Tis healthy to be sick sometimes._

_~ Henry David Thoreau_

* * *

**Day 14. October 2, 2009. 5:21 P.M.**

A fragile, shaking white hand slid aside the curtains on a window as the head peeked outside. The sun set just over the tall skyscrapers of Philadelphia, as debris scattered the streets below. There was no noise, just silence. Every now and then, pops of gunfire could be heard throughout the city. The hand closed the curtains.

2 weeks.

That was the length of time Eddie Tahoe had been holed up once more in his apartment on Holly Street. His resolution to stay inside after everything went to hell had gone unchallenged, as the creatures down on the streets had long since infected everyone in the city.

There was no cell phone service.

There was no internet service.

Eddie hadn't even picked up an emergency radio broadcast for three days now.

There was nobody left in the city who wasn't infected, or about to be.

_Except him._

Eddie was the only one who hadn't succumbed to the deadly flu by this point.

Even if he locked himself back in his apartment, he'd still been deeply scratched by Pete on the very first day. He shouldn't even be alive, really. So what does that mean?

_Maybe I have to go on an epic quest across the country to find some doctors who will develop a cure_, Eddie thought.

No, wait, that's stupid.

_No, it actually isn't_, Eddie argued.

Yes it is. You're trapped in the very center of the city with no weapons, or much food left.

Eddie grumbled to himself a little, and sat down on a sagging sofa in his apartment. The lights dimmed deeply once again. They'd been doing that for the past few days now, and it seemed to be getting worse. Most of the buildings in the city had already lost power, but a few connected through another source had stayed lit throughout all this time.

Eddie heard gunfire again. _Whoever was still stuck in this city is doomed_, he decided. _Including me, I guess._

He peeked through the curtains again. The infected down on the street hadn't moved much at all. Some of them were beginning to look quite grotesque, as they had been the first to be infected with the virus. A few didn't even look human any more.

Eddie sighed and looked around his apartment. If there had been normal city noises outside his window, it would've appeared as though nothing were wrong at all.

His eyes strayed to the box of supplies by the door. They were dwindling down, and Eddie wasn't too sure he could withstand going outside against these monsters. He'd seen what they could do. After CEDA quarantined Holly Street late on the first day, he remembered watching people sneak over the gate that night, only to be ripped apart by the infected. They were like zombies.

He narrowed his eyes as they fell upon a crumpled carton of cigarettes. He never really liked them much, but decided it wouldn't be a horrible idea to try them for the first time in his apartment, now that he only had a week or two left.

Eddie carefully slid the carton out, and pulled the least crushed cigarette out. After digging around some more, he discovered a lighter, and proceeded to smoke with much hacking and coughing.

He exhaled, letting the fumes escape from his lung, coughing a bit more. In a few minutes, the smoke began to fill the air in his apartment. Where's the smoke supposed to go, he wondered, giving himself a mental slap, when-

_BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP._

The smoke alarm right above his door began flashing red, and water starting spraying from the sprinkler system in the roof. He yelled, flinging water all over the couch, and threw the cigarette on the floor, stamping on it. He started wafting the smoke towards the crack in the door, right when there was a loud banging on his apartment door.

He took a few steps back, stumbled, and fell onto the damp carpet. The alarm continued, blaring out in the silence of the city. Eddie heard the roars of the infected surround the building, as the banging increased in frequency and loudness. Not long after that, there was stomping above his head, causing the ceiling to shudder. He slowly cast his gaze up, and listened to dozens of feet bang on the floor above his head. His eyes widened as the ceiling began to bulge, and frantically tried to scramble out of the way, but it was too late. The ceiling utterly collapsed onto him, flooding dust all over the apartment building, as dozens upon dozens of zombies fell upon Eddie. He cried out in horror under the debris, the weight strangling him, but there was no escape. He laid under the rubble, hundreds of footsteps directly on top of him, as he suffocated under the intense pressure of the undead.

* * *

NOTE: Short chapter, I know, but we've finally made it to the very beginning of Left 4 Dead. No Mercy is in development, though I suspect, for most of you, it's already available. Read! Well, good job on that. Have you reviewed? Probably not! Do that! Follow! Don't forget to favorite!


	6. No Mercy

_Curing the infection... one bullet at a time._

* * *

**Day 14. October 2, 2009. 8:02 P.M.**

"Man, I don't _like_ this."

A young, tall black man with a white button down shirt and a red tie slowly trudged down a trashed alley. Beside him walked three other people: an old fellow carrying an assault rifle, a vest wearing muscular guy with a shotgun, and a young, brown haired college girl with two glocks.

The bald, black man known as Louis spoke up again, "Can't I at least use another one of your pistols? All I have is this-"

The old man, Bill, cut him off, muttering, "We'll find you another gun, don't worry. For now, let's just think about getting out of the city. Philadelphia just seems to go on for miles..."

"Hey," the vest wearing guy, Francis, spoke up to Bill, "maybe you could use your smelly beard to _scare_ the vampires away."

The college girl, Zoey, rolled her eyes, saying, "Francis, I told you earlier, they're _not_ vampires. Besides," she suddenly spoke up, laughing with her hand covering her nose, "you're no better. Don't you use _deodorant_?"

"Hey!" Francis protested pointing at her with a tattoo covered arm. "I don't _need_ deodorant. If it wasn't for these little _zombie_ things, I'd be smelling all _sparkl_-"

"Will you knock it _off_?" Louis whispered harshly. "There could be infected around! And," he turned to Bill, "How am I supposed to protect myself, anyway?"

Bill shrugged. "Look, eh, Francis, can you go look for a gun for Louis? I don't really-"

Francis grinned and pulled out a sub machine gun from behind him. "You had one this _whole time_?" Louis yelled, and quickly inspected it.

Zoey squinted at Francis. "Did you just pull that from your-"

"Hold up," Bill said, holding his hand out. He stepped further, and knelt down, reaching his hands out. He withdrew some green mucus-like slime from the body he inspected. "Ain't seen anything like _this_ before..."

"_Jesus_," Francis remarked, staring at him. "Don't let that stop you from smearin' it _all over_ yourself."

Bill grimaced, and wiped his hands on Francis's vest. "They're _changing_," Bill told him.

"Gah!" Francis cried out, inspecting his black vest. "God _damn_ it, Bill! _Ugh_, it stinks!"

Louis began to laugh, when suddenly they heard a whimpering noise. They all froze. Bill squinted his eyes and looked at the door.

A crying sound emitted from it, sounding just like a little girl. Zoey's hopes rose. "Someone's still alive!" she said, looking at the metal door.

Bill carefully opened the gray door, letting it slide to a halt against the wall. In the darkness, the crying rang out, piercing the silence in the room. "Over there," he whispered to Zoey.

Zoey switched on her flashlight, and began to follow Bill's crouching stance towards the girl. "Hello?" Zoey whispered into the darkness. "_Hello_?" she asked again.

"It's okay," she spoke, walking further. "We're gonna-"

Suddenly, lightning illuminated the gray figure crouching in the corner. "Lights _off_!" Bill whispered to Zoey.

Louis stood outside, guarding the door with his new sub machine gun. Down the alleyway, he heard snarling and rapidly approaching footsteps. He squinted into the darkness, and muttered, "Oh, shit. Shit! _Shit_! _Shit_!" He spun around as Francis began blasting away at the approaching figures. "They're _coming_!" he yelled at the pair inside the room, shining his flashlight's glare upon the girl. The girl screeched, and stared at him with blood red eyes. His eyes widened as Zoey screamed, "Run like _hell_!"

Both Bill and Zoey sprinted towards the opened door, and Louis closed it, slamming all his weight into it. A loud bang a second later informed him that the girl had slammed into the door, too. A second later, and there was another bang, with a large dent poking out towards him. He winced, when suddenly a clawed hand burst through a hole in the door. "Aaa_aaggghhhhh_!" he screamed, unloading his gun into the hand.

The four of them all began blasting away at the incoming horde. "Stick together!" Francis yelled above the huge din. Just then, a gnarled scream was heard from the fire escape above their heads. A long rope suddenly constricted Bill, lifting him up off the ground. "_Agh_!" he yelled as the creature began lifting him up. "Hang on!" Francis yelled, blasting away at the mutation. Smoke spewed out everywhere, and Bill was dropped to the ground with the monster's death.

"Guys?" Zoey yelled at them. Francis helped Bill up, and proceeded to blow holes into two incoming zombies headed right for Bill. "Merry Christmas." he told the old man.

The infected continued to sprint down the alley towards them, impeded only by bullets. Zoey reached into her back pocket, and withdrew a small cylinder with a wire. She pressed a button and threw it at the oncoming horde, yelling, "Fire in the _hole_!"

The small device beeped, drawing the attention of the infected. It bounced along the ground to a stop, and exploded, sending bodies everywhere.

The four regained their composure, right when Louis noticed a faint buzzing noise. A helicopter soared above the alleyway, a search light attached to the front. "_Heeeyyy_!" he yelled, running towards it. "We're over _here_!" He ran out onto the deserted street as a hooded figure ran along the rooftops. "We're not infected!" he continued to yell, waving his arms. "Down _here_!"

The helicopter buzzed away from him. "_Damn_ it!" he said, frowning. The other three emerged from the alleyway towards him, when suddenly the figure jumped right off the rooftop and onto Louis's stomach. "_Aggghhh_! _Shit_!" he screamed as it tried to claw at his stomach. Zoey ran right out towards it, and blasted away at it with her two pistols, leaving no room for error. Louis pulled out his backup desert eagle from his pocket, and blasted away at the creature, letting it land with a thump onto a parked car.

The car had an automatic alarm.

"Oh, this is gonna get _bad_," muttered Bill as he readied his assault rifle to his shoulder. The ringing car alarm echoed into the distance, and a distant roar of zombies startled the four. Louis lifted himself to his feet, and looked warily towards the distance.

The wave of zombies approached, hundreds upon hundreds of footsteps pounding against the dirty, deserted streets of Philadelphia. They climbed over barriers, cars, and anything in their way. As they approached, a huge, deep growl emerged from the horde, and a gigantic, ape-like creature barreled through the infected. It tossed cars out of its way, crushing the other zombies in its path. "Run or shoot?" Louis yelled at them. The other three remained frozen in fear. "_Run_ or _shoot_?" Louis screamed at them as the wave drew nearer.

"Both!" Bill yelled, and the four began blasting away at the horde, running along the street.

They escaped into an alleyway, with the huge creature trailing behind them, luring the other infected nearer. "Get to the roof!" Louis yelled, pointing upwards at a fire escape. With Francis holding off the creatures, yelling, "Go! Go! _Go_!" the others quickly jumped up to the dangling ladder, and started climbing. "Come on. _Come on_!" Francis yelled, aiming the barrel right at an incoming zombie's chest, pulling the trigger.

Everyone except Bill and Francis had climbed up the ladder. The gigantic monster slammed its fist into Francis, and Bill quickly jumped into the fray, firing upon the muscled zombie. It rebounded, and slammed itself into a brick building, creating a hole and sending bricks everywhere. The monster lifted up a huge piece of rubble, and flung it up at them. "Heads up!" Louis yelled as the rock collided with the structure, sending it askew. "Go on! I'll hold them off!" Zoey yelled at the two down below, aiming her dual pistols towards the creature as other infected surrounded them. Both of them rapidly climbed the ladder, just before the monster had jumped onto the metal structure too.

It ripped the lower levels apart, almost sending Francis and Bill to their doom. They quickly scurried up past Zoey, just as the monster ripped apart the rest of the entire staircase, almost sending Zoey flying. She jumped up right as the structure fell, and screamed, "_Francis_!" reaching up with her hand.

Francis just grabbed on at that moment, and heaved her up to the roof. The monster fell all the way down to its doom, landing with a deep thud that resonated into the roof that the four stood on. They all caught their breaths, sitting down.

"We made it..." Louis managed between gasps of air. "I can't believe we _made_ it!"

"Son," Bill began, lighting a cigarette. "We just crossed the _street_. Let's not throw a party till we're out of the city."

The four crossed over to a blue tarp, and to the other side, where hundreds of zombies ambled the streets below. Louis sighed and looked back up to the sky. Thunder collapsed again, and a few trickles of rain began to fall.

"So, uh..." Zoey began, holding her hand out for the early night rain. "What now?" she continued.

The four were lost for words.

A few moments later, a low buzzing noise began to be heard to their right. They all whipped around as the same news helicopter hovered right over their street. Louis began waving his hands again.

"_To anyone who can here this, proceed directly to Mercy Hospital for evacuation! Repeat, proceed to Mercy Hospital for evacuation!_"

The blue tarp covering them was ripped clean off its posts, and it flew off in the gusts after it. Louis watched it as it left. "Do you think they saw us?" Louis asked them, still watching.

Bill shook his head. "Doubt it. But Mercy Hospital isn't very far from here..."

Zoey turned her head and looked up at the tall structure a few blocks from where they stood. A glowing green sign on the side read "Mercy" with a green plus sign enclosed in a circle. "Yeah," she began, "that's just a few blocks from here. We could make it."

"_Assuming_ that we have a clear cut path there," Francis said, smirking and resting his shotgun to his shoulder. "Which, I'm just gonna go out on a limb here, we probably _don't_."

Louis sighed. "Come on, guys, stay _positive_! This is as good as it _gets_! An evacuation in the very _center_ of the city after about _two weeks_ of trying to escape? This could be our ticket out of here!"

Bill nodded. "Realistically, this _is_ a good plan. Better than walking around on the streets for any longer... these _zombies_ are getting more dangerous."

"Then let's go, before this rain _really_ starts to pick up," Zoey told them, and heaved a sub machine gun from the table they stood at.

The four climbed down the stairs down into the building. Bodies were everywhere. "_Christ_, it smells," Zoey muttered.

On the top floor apartment, a few zombies ambled about, completely unaware of their surroundings. "_Shh_!" Bill hushed at them, and quickly shot the freaks in the head once with his assault rifle. He then waved the others on, as they continued to descend into the building.

On the second floor, they were stopped by a large hole in the floor. "What the _hell_?" Louis said, rubbing his head. Down in the hole, a horrible reeking stench rose. Dozens of bodies lay on the debris directly below them. "Just be careful jumping down," Bill told them, hopping onto the first floor.

Their shoes made squelching noises as they stepped in the puddles of water on the carpet. "Come on, guys. Stick together," Francis said, and promptly walked out into the alleyway. Bill grimaced.

The four stepped into the rain. Thunder clapped in the distance, and a few more infected roamed the alleyways. "Let's _go_!" Francis yelled, running towards the zombies. They whirled around, just as Francis blasted their torsos into pieces. "Come _on_, Bill!" Zoey yelled as she followed the other two. Bill was rubbing his head.

Francis stepped right out onto Holly Street. Deserted cars littered the road, and barricades barred off exit to other parts of the city. Down the street, a truck had crashed into a fence. "You want some of _this_?" Francis yelled at the various infected wandering about. He and Louis shot at them, quickly taking them down. "_Yeah_!" Francis yelled, and hi-fived Zoey. "Come on, the hospital's _this way_!" he called to Bill.

The four of them walked forward, with Francis leading. They continued, right, passing a small general store when a completely decimated building blocked their path forward. "Uh. Don't worry. We'll get through this," Francis muttered, scratching his goatee. Louis pointed towards some stairs that descended into the ground. "Guys, we can take the subwa-"

"Little _vampires_!" Francis yelled, shooting his shotgun straight at some infected near the stairs. The wide spread of the bullets blasted anything in front of him, including a parked car.

_Cars have alarms. Okay, I think I get that now_, Francis thought to himself as the din woke up every infected within a five block radius.

"_You_-" Bill began to yell at Francis, right when the screams of infected drew nearer.

Zoey waved at them. "Come _on_, guys! The stairs are _right_-"

Hundreds of zombies jumped over the barricade behind them. The creatures drew nearer, as Louis sprinted down into the subway with Zoey. Bill looked at Francis with a dead eye, and muttered, "_Run_."

They rapidly descended down into the stairs below. Louis was waiting in front of a red metal door. "Hey, guys! I found another safe room!" he called to them.

Bill had just ran through the door when the infected had reached it, too. Zoey and Francis quickly slammed it shut, but a few arms were in the way, waving a groping for something to claw. They pounded on the door as Zoey struggled with the weight. "Francis!" she yelled. "_Do_ something!"

"_I don't know what to do!_" he yelled at her, his eyes wild. Bill and Louis were pushing a desk forward. "Get outta the god _damn_ way!" Bill yelled at the two as they heaved the desk towards the door. They pushed it right against it, and shot at the arms trying to break through. And finally, there was silence, apart from the pants of the four beaten survivors.

"_You_..." Bill began at Francis, taking deep breaths. "You almost _killed_ us all..."

"_Hey_!" Francis yelled, pointing at his chest. "I had to take _charge_ for you kids! We would've _died_ without _my_ experti-"

"We almost _did_ die because of-"

"Guys! _Guys_!" Zoey yelled, pushing herself between the two. "Cut it _out_! We're _alive_! That's _all_ that _matters_ here!"

Bill grimaced at Francis. "I lead from now on," he told the muscular man.

Francis waved his shotgun around. "_Fine_!" he yelled, sitting against a wooden table. "But don't come crying to _me_ when _Louis_ here stubs his toe on a _crazy bitch_ again! Or when Zoey attracts a gigantic _muscle machin_-"

"_Hey_!" Louis yelled, suddenly looking up. "I did my _best_! We _all_ did! If we just play this _carefully_, we can get to Mercy Hospital easily! You saw how few infected there were before the car alarm! Hell, we could even take the _subway_ there!"

Bill scratched his gray beard. "You know, that's _not_ actually a bad plan, there, Louis. We could follow the tracks. I'm sure it leads straight there."

Zoey finished reloading her new sub machine gun with ammo. "Okay, then. That sounds like a plan."

She purposefully stared at Francis to see if he would object. "Okay, it's cool, then. Old man Bill, you take the lead," Francis said.

The four opened the metal door and stepped down into a rubble filled empty space. Some stairs continued to point downward. "Down here," Bill told them, hoisting his automatic gun up.

They turned the corner into what looked like a ticket selling area. Quite a few zombies filled the space, some sitting down. "_Fire!_" Zoey yelled, and they all shot the infected to death. They continued into the depths of the Philadelphia Underground.

Eventually, the four ended up at a station. Subway cars were stationary, doors open. Bodies littered the floor around them. One subway car was completely flipped onto its side. "Careful, guys. Just try to go north, where the hospital is," Louis told them.

They followed the train tracks forward, wary of the zombies around them, firing upon any that ran up to attack. They eventually ended up at a maintenance station, where the way forward was completely blocked by rubble. "Up here!" Bill told the trio, and began ascending the stairs to the surface.

They emerged into a capacious warehouse. "Woah," Francis muttered, looking up at the huge facility. He then looked at the corner. "_Woah_!" he said again, and ran over to a mounted Gatling gun. "_Buncha guns_ over here!" he said, looking at the stockpile. Bill continued forward.

"The way up to street level is behind this door," he said, pointing at a metal roll-up door. He then pulled down the lever.

Whir. _Bzzt_. screeeEEE_EEEEEE_-

The incredibly loud, eardrum cringing door's noise drew in every wandering zombie from outside. "Holy hell!" Francis yelled, and jumped behind the Gatling gun. "Get ready to fire!" Zoey called, getting into position with the others.

Wave after wave of infected burst through the shattered windows high on the walls. The four fired their weapons, only barely scraping by.

Louis fired away with his sub machine gun. "Reloading!" he called, pulling out a new clip from the ammo pile. He spotted something within the peripherals of his eyes.

"What in the _hell_-"

A giant, fat zombie came lumbering over to them. It had pus leaking out of giant rolls of fat, and one of its eyes was blocked by the capsules of pus. It made strange gurgling noises, and came closer.

"_Fire_!" Bill yelled, and Francis blasted it once with his shotgun.

The creature exploded, sending green, sticky, smelly bile all over them. "_Augh_!" Louis yelled, ducking. "My _vest!_" Francis screamed, getting the slime all over it. Suddenly, it seemed every single zombie within a two mile radius had been called over.

"Oh, _fuck_..." Zoey muttered as she frantically wiped the goo out of her eyes. "This shit _attracts them_!" she yelled to the others.

"_What_?" Bill yelled, fighting off six zombies at at time. Francis kicked at them, but was suddenly lifted up in the air.

"_Holy hell!_" he yelled again, being hoisted up by some kind of rope. "Something's _got me_!"

Bill squinted up, and saw that another zombie, this one tall, was carrying him up through... what looked like an extremely elongated tongue. Bill realized with a start that it was the same kind that had gotten him earlier in the alley. "Hang on!" he yelled to Francis, and proceeded to shoot the thing down with his assault rifle. It exploded in a giant green cloud of smoke, making them all cough.

Francis fell to the floor, clanging against the metal. "Thanks," he grunted, lifting himself up. And just then, there was another clang; the roll-up metal door clicking into place, clearing the way for them. "Let's go, guys! Come on!" Louis called to them.

The four clanged up the stairs to a large office. Outside the window, the rain poured down, thunder clapping in the distance. A faint buzzing noise could be heard.

"Hang on!" Zoey called to them, slowing them to a stop. They'd finally lost the infected. "I think that's the chopper!" she said, peering out a window.

Sure enough, a news helicopter, the same one, flew right over the street outside the window. The words "_Mercy Hospital_" could be heard crackling faintly.

"Come on!" Louis yelled to them, already running towards the exit stairs. "We might be able to catch them!"

"Jesus, you sure are optimistic," Francis muttered, and Bill chuckled a bit.

Louis ran out into the street, and the rain. The chopper was already way off into the distance. "Damn," he said to himself just as the other three approached.

"Well," Bill began, looking at the city before him. "What do ya know. Mercy Hospital is just two or three blocks over."

He pointed towards the tall building not far from them. The sign still glowed in the darkness. "And _hey_!" Francis called, pointing to what looked like a pawn shop. "While we're being all _cheery_ like nothing's going to go wrong, I can see a safe room right in that shop! Hey, maybe _everything_ is going to be fine _after all_. We saved _America_."

Louis rolled his eyes at Francis. "Come on, you _gotta_ admit that things are going pretty well," Louis told him, walking with the others to the pawn shop.

They entered, barring the door with a heavy TV. "So," Bill said, panting after all the exertion. "I guess we continue headin' to Mercy Hospital. That chopper's still around, apparently."

"Good," Zoey said. "Because I'm _starving_. I can't wait to see a nice, lush evacuation center. I bet they have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches." She picked up what looked like a stale box of Cheerios from a table, and began eating from it.

"We can't afford to spend much time hanging around here," Bill muttered, watching her. "We gotta keep moving. That chopper's not gonna stick around forever, you know."

"Old man's right!" Francis said loudly, picking up a military grade rifle from the table. "We should hurry for the people at Mercy Hospital who are _totally_ still alive after _two weeks_ and _not infected_, in a place where there's _sick people_ brought in _every day_!"

"Come on, Francis," Louis said, scratching at his own shirt. "At least it's a way out of here."

"Then," Bill began, opening the red metal door, "if we're all in agreement, let's get going."

The four stepped into another alley, and walked along, soon ending up in a fast food joint. "_Hey_!" Francis yelled, pointing at the sign. "It's a Burger Tank! I've always-"

Right then, a hooded figure jumped up from nowhere and landed on Francis. It tore at his vest, creating long scratch marks in the leather. "_Crap_!" Zoey cried, pointing towards it with a shaking white finger. "It's one of those _pouncer things! Kill it!_"

Bill tore several bullets of his ammunition into the dark blue hoodie, killing the monster immediately. "Damn... _pouncer_ things..." he muttered to himself, continuing into the restaurant. Zoey helped Francis up.

They stepped outside the Burger Tank. "Hey!" Louis yelled, pointing at the dead end. "I think we can take a shortcut to the hospital through that warehouse!"

"What a bright idea!" Francis said, and mockingly pretended to skip there. Louis grumbled to himself under his breath.

They arrived to what appeared to be a window washing booth. They stepped in, and Bill pressed the button to get to the roof. "I think it's going to be easier up here than down there, son," he told Louis.

The creaking of the machine attracted a few infected, but nothing the four couldn't handle themselves, especially when being lifted in the air on a platform. It stopped at the roof and they got off.

"Wow," Zoey told Bill. "It actually looks like this only goes through that window into the building."

Louis smiled a little, and they climbed into it.

The warehouse was musty, empty, and quite echoey. They walked around to find another exit. "Shh!" Bill told them suddenly, holding a finger to his lips.

There was a crying noise coming from somewhere downstairs. "Do you think-" Louis began, but promptly shut up after remembering his last encounter.

"We kill it," Francis quickly said, holding his rifle steadily. "I'll do it," he continued. "I have a knack with dealing with _crazy women_."

They crept forward, weapons at standby. They then came up to the creature, illuminated by a single light bulb in a dark, underground room. It sobbed, but its eyes glowed red.

"_Jesus_, that's creepy," Zoey quietly said. Francis put a large finger to his lips, and he alone continued forward. He crouched until he was about five feet away, aimed, and blasted away with his assault rifle right into the girl's head.

It flung up, screamed, and sprinted towards Francis. He yelled, his rifle clattering to the floor. "Oh shit! Change of plans! _Change of plans_! _Change of_ - _OH SHIT!_"

The girl flung a clawed hand towards his body. He was thrown down immediately, yelling in horror. "Shoot! _Shoot!_" Bill yelled at Zoey and Louis, and they all blasted away with their guns.

It took quite a bit of ammunition to take the girl out. Francis lay panting on the floor, a bloody wound in his chest throbbing. "Oh, _fuck_, are you okay?" Zoey said to him, running up with a first aid kit. "Peachy fucking keen," Francis said between pants, as she patched up his wound.

"What _was_ that?" Louis said in quiet horror at what had happened.

"It was another of those _bitch_ things!" Francis suddenly cried out, as alcohol was poured onto his wound by Zoey. "She attacked me! That evil little _witch_!"

"Calm _down_," Bill began, holding his hands unsteadily out. "It's alright now. We'll make it out of here. The hospital's not too far from here."

Louis was standing over a manhole, looking down. "Hey!" he called out to them. Bill looked over his shoulder. "What is it?"

"I think we can take a shortcut down here, if we just go north!" Louis called, still staring down into the tunnels. It was lit up, at the least, but there were bodies in the murky water.

Francis got finished up, and gingerly walked over to Louis with the others. "S'up?" he said with a cocky grin, as if the entire incident had not even happened.

"Well," Louis explained, "we could go through here, if we just go north. I don't think there's going to be many infected in a sewer system. What do you think, Zoey?" he said, turning to her.

"Well," she began, all eyes on her. "It might not be such a bad idea. And no zombies would be a welcome change."

"Alright, let's do it," Bill said, and was the first to hop into the hole.

It was smelly, that was for sure. The other three jumped down one at a time. "Alright," Francis said, looking towards Louis. "So, Mr. Cheerful, which way do we go? Assuming most of it isn't _flooded_ from the _pumps_ not even being-"

Zoey cut him off. "Yeah, we _get it_, Francis. Just stay _quiet_."

"I hate sewers," Francis said grumpily to himself, as they trudged along.

It was true, there were very few infected down here. Aside from the occasional zombie who'd accidentally fallen in, they were golden. After a while of walking, Louis pointed towards a ladder. Rain splattered the bottom of it, and an open hole led access to the world above. "This is our stop!" he called to them, and began climbing up.

Like surfacing for air in a rather spacious swimming pool, Louis's head poked up out of the hole, exposed to the sights and smells and sounds of the surface. Rain ran along the cracks in the street, and the tall buildings of Philadelphia poked over the horizon. He looked up, and laughed.

"We're here!" he called down to the others. "We made it to the hospital!"

Looking up, all three of the other survivors saw the tall building rising just before them. The front doors were wide open, but bodies laid everywhere in the street. Up in the building, it appeared the lights were on in several rooms.

"Yeah _ha_!" Zoey laughed, clapping her hands together in the rain. "We're here!"

Even Francis couldn't help but break a grin. "I'm sorry, guys," he began, putting on a show. "I'm tearing up here a little."

Bill was already jogging towards the doors. The others followed, to where a saferoom stood next to the lobby.

"Yes!" Zoey said again, as the metal door was closed behind them. "So where's the evac?" she asked, walking towards Bill with an apprehensive face. Bill was staring at the wall with a grimace upon his face. "Bill?" Zoey asked tentatively.

"This is bullshit," he muttered, and turned around with a sorrow expression upon his face. On the wall, in big writing, were the handwritten words, "_Mercy Hospital is Overrun_." Louis groaned.

"Well, we couldn't _expect it_ not to be overrun, right?" Francis said to the three. "I mean, we got some _helicopter guy_ who's gonna be waiting for us. Maybe it's at the roof, where there's a holdout or something."

Zoey nodded slowly, thinking. "He's got a point," she said, pointing her finger slightly. "We could just go to the roof. I'm sure that's where a helipad would be."

Louis looked towards the others, and nodded vigorously. "Yeah!" he said. "We should get going! The guy's probably waiting for us already!"

Bill stood still for another moment, sighed, and reloaded his assault rifle. "Alright, so it's a plan."

They waited for another moment, as if just testing to see if someone would say otherwise, and opened the other red door to the hospital.

The halls were narrow, bloody, and filled with bodies. The stinging smell of disinfectant hung in the air along with the smells of rotting flesh. There was a considerable number of zombies roaming the corridors, forcing the four survivors to kill them in order to proceed. Eventually, they arrived at an elevator not far from where they started.

"Alright! Hope this works..." Bill muttered, and slammed his fist into the button going up.

The entire building seemed to shake, and the lights dimmed for a second. "...what was _that_?" Zoey said after the brief silence that followed.

"Dunno. Seems like the whole city's losing power..." Bill told her, and waited for the elevator to start up.

There was another shudder, and the elevator came to life. The electronic display above the doors read the number 26. It slowly began to count down.

"_26_?" Louis yelled, losing his temper. "We're on the _fourth floor_! It's gonna take _ages_ for it to-"

The elevator shuddered once more. There was a horde of infected swarming the building's door, entering in copious amounts. Zoey cautiously stepped away, and Francis smoothly cocked back his rifle.

"Get ready to make some music..." Bill told everyone, and hoisted his rifle to his shoulder, ready to fire upon whatever turned around the corner.

There was a brief pause.

"...ready to make some _music_?" Zoey repeated, snickering. Bill cast a exasperated eyebrow upon her. "_What_?" he asked her.

"Nothing!" she said, still giggling. "Just... getting ready to kill dozens of unarmed, sick patients just doesn't seem much like music to m-"

"Hey!" Francis yelled. "You heard the old man's beard! We gotta make some music to get to the _chopper_! We didn't come here for-"

Suddenly, around a dozen zombies turned around the corner, running towards them. "Open fire!" Louis yelled, and the four proceeded to blast away the infected as number 26 counted down steadily.

"Keep it comin'!" Francis yelled, reloading his rifle. The team was a compact, efficient one, operating under the same goals and objectives as one another. Whenever Louis frantically spotted another of the hooded pouncing things, he would yell, "Jumping thing!" or "Pouncer!" If Zoey saw a big fat zombie ready to spew some more goo over them, Zoey might say, "Fattie!" or "Popper!" or "_Boomer_!" And if Bill saw the smokey tongue mutation, he would yell, "Tonguer!" or "_The elevator is here! Let's go! Let's go!_"

The four sprinted into the elevator, Louis frantically ramming the button reading 26 right as a few arms got caught in the door. They were all crushed off as the elevator began moving up towards the ceiling, leaving the limbs on the elevator floor. The crew sat down, breathing heavily.

"So," Louis said between breaths.

"_So_," Francis began, "what's the plan if the helicopter guy isn't there, or doesn't even _show up_? Do we climb _all_ the way back _down_ through the zombies? Or do we just skydive right off the-"

Zoey held her hand up, sitting crosslegged on the floor. "Francis, _please_." She cautiously eyed the dismembered arm lying next to her.

"We're here, people," Bill had suddenly spoken up, and walked through the door.

It appeared they were on an unfinished floor still going through a construction project. "Hey, what the hell?" Louis suddenly said, waving his arms around. "This was supposed to be the _roof_!"

There wasn't any glass in the windows, exposing them to the outside. The city of Philadelphia soared before them, extending for miles into the mountains of Pennsylvania. Rain poured through the gaps, soaking them thoroughly. Bill suddenly said, "We can probably find some stairs or something. There has got to be roof access."

The team ventured forward into the unknown. As there wasn't any railings, they had to be careful not to stumble from the intense gusts of wind blowing through the floor. After a few dead bodies, and some twists and turns, they discovered the stairs leading up into another safe room.

"Keep it moving, people!" Bill said as they all marched into the safe room.

Safe at last, they reloaded their guns and took necessary supplies. "This had better have been a good idea," Zoey muttered under her breath. She didn't really like to be pessimistic, but climbing down through almost 30 floors of infection didn't really seem like her ideal picture of a successful journey. Francis laughed and picked up a combat shotgun. "Relax!" he said as he pumped it. "We'll get out of here in _no time_. Don't worry."

Zoey gave a sigh of relief. Bill finished taking enough ammo for his rifle. "Let's get going, then," he told them, and slammed open the door.

The high winds of the skies weren't something they'd anticipated. Mercy Hospital was one of the tallest buildings in Philadelphia, and as such, was prone to intense gales of wind. "Let's _go_!" Bill yelled, running across the roof. "The helicopter's not here right now! Maybe we can send a message!"

They arrived to a sheltered radio station on the roof. Bill quickly grabbed the transmitter, and said, "Hello? This is Mercy Hospital! Come in, _anybody_!"

There was a faint crackling noise, and suddenly someone responded. "_Hello? Hello! This is News Chopper 5! I just got your signal. Gather some supplies, and get ready to hold out until I get there. Radio me back when you're ready._"

Bill stood there, staring at it. Zoey looked around at everyone. Francis had on another cocky grin.

"Uhhh..." Bill stammered into the microphone. "We're, uh, ready _now_, if that's alright with you."

"_Okay!_" yelled a cheery voice into the receiver. "_I'll be there soon! ETA in 15 minutes! Hang in there! I'm on my way!_"

The radio crackled to a stop. "Oh, _no_," Louis stammered, "I've got a sudden, overwhelming sense of _doom..._"

"Alright," Bill began, wringing his hands. "Here's the plan. We stay quiet until this guy gets here. We don't do anything to alert the-"

There was a sudden roar of infected from the floors below them. "Aw, _damn it_, Bill!" Francis yelled. "You _jinxed us_!"

"_Incoming_!" Zoey yelled, and began firing upon the approaching zombies. "God _damn_ it! We'll make it through this!" she yelled at the top of her lungs.

"Aa_aaaggghhhhh_!" Louis suddenly yelled, getting further and further away. Bill spun around, and saw he was being dragged by one of those smoking mutations. He fired rapidly at the wheezing zombie, making it explode in a cloud of smoke. Louis hacked and coughed in the cloud, being pulled to his feet by Bill. "Thanks," he told him, and helped to destroy the incoming horde.

A few moments later, the radio crackled again. "_ETA in 5 minutes! Hang in there, guys!_"

Just then, there was a sudden rumbling sound coming from the floor below them. "Aw, _hell..._" Bill muttered, and then yelled, "We got a _muscle monster_! Keep your rifles high and _loaded_!"

At the other end of the roof, the door was ripped off its hinges, and thrown down off the building. A muscly zombie the size of a car burst through, and came charging straight at them, growling as it went. "Shoot!" Francis yelled. "_Shoot!_"

It ripped up a portion of the flooring, and threw it at the survivors. The piece crashed into a wall, creating a deep, sizable dent. "Watch out!" Zoey yelled.

"Hold on..." Bill muttered, and withdrew what appeared to be a bottle of vodka from his belt. He ignited the cloth hanging out the top with his cigarette, and yelled, "_Fire in the hole!_"

The flaming bottle soared through the air towards the monster, and crashed into it, spraying fire all over it. It roared in agony, but did not stop. "What the _hell_?" Louis yelled over the din. "This thing's as strong as a god damn _tank_!"

"Keep shootin'!" Bill called to them, unloading every last bullet into the zombie. It finally collapsed onto its knees, dead before them. Louis jumped in the air and whooped. And right then, the helicopter soared right over their heads, hovering right over the landing pad.

"_Yes!_" Zoey screamed, and ran right for it with Louis. "Come on!" Francis yelled, and began running for the chopper with Bill, shooting the infected still coming wave by wave towards them. Zoey jumped right inside, along with Louis. Louis helped Francis in, and Bill landed with a thud in the compartment, quickly sliding the door shut as the helicopter flew off, finally taking them to safety.

* * *

NOTE: Please notify me via PM if I made any grammar mistakes, I'm usually good at typing without errors but this was the longest chapter so far and I can often make stupid mistakes. Anyway! That's one entire campaign of Left 4 Dead completed! Now we just have 5 more! And then 6 more from Left 4 Dead 2! And possibly more! Whooo knooows? I do! Bwahaha!

And, as always, review, favorite, follow, etc. You know the drill by now. Oh yeah! Do you guys like the writing style for the campaigns? Should I stick so rigorously to the actual maps, or should I make up my own paths, like, if I completely ignored the sewer section? I kind of like writing to the maps, but I would have more creative freedom with my own path. But, if you really want new paths, I WILL have an entire new cast later on! And, don't worry, I will have interludes where I give a peek upon what's going on in the rest of the world. These can be found by finding chapters that do not have campaign names. Anyway, let me know via the review section. Did you like No Mercy? Do you want more in the same style? Tell me! I am listening. I am always listening.


	7. Crash Course

_Crashing will be the easiest thing they do today._

* * *

**Day 14. October 2, 2009. 10:47 P.M.**

Four figures huddled in a swaying, gray compartment. Helicopter rotors rotated rapidly overhead, and outside the windows lay a vast expanse of dark, moonlit buildings.

The rain had stopped a few minutes earlier after they flew straight out of Philadelphia. Their pilot handled the controls quickly and smoothly, as if he'd done this every day of his life. They'd been riding in silence ever since they flew out of the city. Zoey spoke up.

"Where are we headed?"

The pilot turned his head around to glance at her. "Oh, well, they got a guarded military base up in north west Pennsylvania, 'round Allegheny National Forest n' Pittsburgh. That's where I was sent from. Right now, we're hoverin' over Lansdale, Pennsylvania, in Montgomery County. It's not too far from Philly. We might be ridin' 'til _mornin'_."

"Oh," Zoey said to herself, and drew her knees close to her. Francis was dozing off to sleep, and the steady hum of the blades was enough to make her drift off, too. _They'd run all over the city, and had actually made it. That's enough to warrant me a nice rest,_ Zoey thought.

"Name's Rod!" the pilot yelled back at them over the noise. Louis looked up to see if someone would speak first. When nobody spoke up, he said, "Well, my name's Louis. Uh, this is Zoey, the guy in the vest is Francis, and Bill is the old one."

"That's _mighty nice!_" Rod hollered back. "So, uh, how long've you guys been holed _up_ in that city? It's been _two damn weeks_ out there! You're not sick or anythin'?"

Bill looked up, and frowned slightly. "Well, _no_, we aren't," he began. "I guess the infected have to, I dunno, spit in our mouths or something. Maybe we're resistant."

Francis groggily lifted his head. "Yeah, well, I'm sure I got at least a _pint_ of blood in my mouth these last few days. Damn infected."

Rod nervously glanced back at them. "Wait, so you might actually be sick?" he yelled back at them.

Zoey laughed. "Don't _worry_, Mr. Rod, we're fine. I think we would have gotten sick a _long_ time before now. Do we _look_ like rabid zombies to you?"

The pilot shakily looked forward, and sneezed. "No," he said, "I suppose not. Heh, sorry, but I can't be too careful, you know? One of these suckers gets in that base, it's game over, man. _Game over_."

There was a silence. Bill asked Louis for some food, and Louis handed him an energy bar.

The minutes passed, interrupted only by Rod's sneezing. Zoey looked nervous. "Uh," she began, glancing nervously towards him. "Mr. Rod, are you okay? You weren't sneezing earlier."

Rod suddenly jerked up, and grinned groggily at her. "Oh... no, I'm... fine. Just a little sneeze. We'll be there in a couple... _hours_."

Zoey watched as Rod slumped over in his seat, head resting on the side of the compartment wall. "Rod?" she asked again, this time louder. He didn't stir. "_Rod!_ Wake _up_! You have to drive the helicopter!"

He didn't make a move, and Louis watched as Zoey stood up, and began shaking him. "_Mr. Rod_!" she yelled, as the aircraft began to dip downward. "Christ, Bill, _help me out here!_"

Bill suddenly jerked awake, and walked over to him. There was blood trickling out of Rod's mouth. "_Holy..._" he muttered, and stepped back.

Then, Rod jerked awake. He looked up at Zoey, and choked as blood spilled out of his mouth and onto his trousers. She shrieked, and took a step back. Rod groaned, his eyes bloodshot and gray. Zoey was shaking her head. "_No_..."

Bill grabbed at her arm. "Zoey, _get away from him!_ He's _infected_!"

Everyone was wide awake and watching. Zoey pulled out a glock from her waistband. "Rod, _stop it_. I don't want to have to do this..."

The helicopter was now flying at a steep angle. They were running out of time.

"_Jesus!_" Francis yelled, staring at Zoey. "What the hell are you _doing_, Zoey? Don't kill our _pilot_!"

Rod reached up, grasping and shrieking. Zoey took another step back. Bill watched her. "Zoey, you'd better do it _now_. He's _bitten_. We're out of time."

Zoey closed her eyes and pulled the trigger. The gunshot rang out as Rod's head flew back and onto the control panel. The helicopter was spinning out of control, headed straight for the ground. "_Shit!_" she yelled, grabbing onto the chair. "Duck and cover!" Bill yelled.

Francis only yelled in horror, grasping onto the overhead railing as the chopper hurtled out of the sky. A second later, and the craft slammed into the ground, spinning wildly, blades crumpling on the concrete. Everyone was thrown onto the floor as smoke rose up from the engine, and there was one last bang as the fuel tank exploded, sending fire everywhere. And then there was silence.

Bill coughed, and struggled to lift his head. Blood ran down the side of it, and smoke flooded the small compartment the four wounded survivors laid in. Bill groped around, squinting in the haze.

"Zoey? _Louis?_" he called out. Zoey didn't stir, but Louis got up and shook his head. "Aw, _damn_..." Louis muttered, hitting his noggin on a metal railing.

Francis sat up rapidly, his eyes wide. "I'm up!" he yelled, head swaying precariously. His eyes traveled over to Zoey lying on the floor of the cabin. "Shit, is she okay?" he asked Bill. Bill rubbed his eyes.

"I don't know. Let's just focus on getting out of this damn chopper before it _explodes_ again or somethin'..."

The male trio looked around. Louis pointed upwards. "Hey!" he yelled. "I think we can get out of that hatch!"

A gray square jutted out of the ceiling above. "Good job, Louis," Bill told him, and stood up. "_Christ!_" Bill yelled, and crumpled back to the floor. "What's _wrong_ with the old man?" Francis asked Louis.

Bill grimaced in pain. "My damn _knee_," he cringed, wincing in pain. "I've had surgery on it every now and then, but... christ..." he muttered, testing it. "You need a _crutch_ or something?" Francis asked him. Bill shook his head. "I can make it on my own for a bit. I'm gonna need a stilt or something to be able to walk on it..."

Louis sighed, and got up. "Here, I'll go outside and look around. Maybe I can find a stick of wood, or a pipe."

He began fiddling with the hatch, slowly twisting the lever. "Hey! Maybe we got out of the infected zone! Maybe there's no zombies out here!"

Louis opened the hatch, and lifted himself up. Francis watched as a jumper promptly pounced on him, and began ripping away at his shirt. "Aw, shit..." Francis muttered over the screams of horror emitting from Louis. He climbed out of the hatch and looked down onto the pavement below.

"Hey!" he yelled. "Get the hell off him."

The hooded zombie growled, and looked up at Francis. Francis had a gun trained straight on its head. "_Bingo_," he muttered as the desert eagle blasted its head apart. Louis panted on the ground for a few seconds. "Thanks, Francis..." he muttered, and lifted himself up.

Fifteen minutes later, and Bill sat in front of a warm camp fire, a flat wooden stick firmly attached to his leg with duct tape. The helicopter had crashed in a large, empty parking lot between buildings, luckily. Francis and Louis sat on a parking bumper, eating two bags of Doritos. Roy's body had been dragged over to a wall, and Zoey laid on a large pillow they'd found in the storage compartment. She winced, and looked around.

"What the hell happened?" she asked, and then looked over at the crashed helicopter, still burning slowly. She groaned, put a tentative hand to her left ear. There was gauze over it, and it was damp with drying blood. "Oh, _shit_..." she muttered.

"Yeah, looks like it got caught on a _hook_ or something in there," Bill told her. "You got a bit of a tear in it. The pain alone might have been enough to knock you out. Don't worry, the wound will stop bleeding soon.

Zoey looked up at the man. "What about the pilot? Roy?"

Louis spoke up. "I looked all over him for any bites or scratches, but... I couldn't find any. Maybe his helicopter had the virus _in it_."

Zoey shook her head softly. "I don't understand... if it was in the chopper, why didn't _we_ get infected?"

Bill pointed slightly, smiling a little. "Aha, I've been _thinking_ about that. I decided that since we've been out there for so long, we've become sort of _resistant_ to the virus. Since this guy has been out west this whole time, just a _little_ infection was enough to get him, while we were safe from the virus in his chopper!"

Zoey frowned a little. "Okay, I guess so."

Francis tossed his plastic bag onto the ground. "So what's the plan, kids?" he asked, stretching.

Bill glanced around. "Well, since we're so far away from any big city, apart from Lansdale, I suppose, we might just be able to walk out on foot, and then get a car. Maybe we could, eh, check out that military base in Allegheny."

Louis nodded. "That sounds like a good plan," he said. "I've got a _good_ feeling about this."

Francis rolled his eyes. "I _hate_ helicopters," he decided.

They walked along the street, Bill limping slightly. It was quite fortunate that they all survived such a crash, after plummeting out of the air from such a height.

"God _damn_, it's late," Louis said, rubbing his eyes. Francis laughed. "Man, it's like eleven o'clock. The night's still young! What, you gonna take a _nap_ or something?"

Louis frowned. "Man, you know we've been walking for the past four hours or so. I'm _beat_. I'm sure _all_ of us are," he concluded, glancing at Bill and Zoey. Zoey shrugged. "I can make it out of this town," she told him.

Francis looked over at her. "Yeah, I'm sure you can. You _did_ shoot our pilot, after all. We were gonna make it out of here!"

Zoey was clearly irritated. "Francis, he was a _zombie_!"

Francis crossed his arms and shook his head as they walked past a destroyed truck. "Man, I think sometimes you just have a blood lust for sweet, southern accented pilots just tryin' to help you out."

Zoey stomped. "_Bill_!" she yelled. "Help me out here!"

"What?" Bill suddenly said, looking up. He'd been alert, watching for infected. "Oh, no, uh, Zoey, stop persecuting Francis." He then resumed his watch as they walked.

"Bill! Francis is accusing _me_! I _saved_ our asses from getting _bitten_!"

The only response she got from Bill was, "_Boomer_!" as he rapidly shot an approaching fat creature, ready to blow green sludge all over them again. Once the way was clear, they walked on past a bridge, upon which a train had derailed.

A few seconds later, and they almost walked past a black metal barrier. "_Wait_!" Louis suddenly yelled, tugging on Bill's arm. "Look at what it says!"

In white painted lettering were the letters "_Military Checkpoint_". Francis whooped, looking at it. "Doesn't look like anyone's here," Zoey muttered, staring up towards the deserted guard posts. "Think we could climb it?" she asked.

Bill shook his head solemnly. "Nah, we can just go around. Come on, we might still have a chance of reaching them."

Dozens of infected deaths later, and they were walking next to a large river. "Damn!" Louis said. "Maybe the military is on the other side of the _river_!"

"Could be," Bill mused, still focusing on the target ahead. Another turn later, and they were climbing up a hill, right towards the other side of the barrier.

When they reached the top, the only thing they found was a deserted military truck on the road, and a large green cannon looking gun. "Oh, _man_..." Francis moaned as he eyed the giant gun. "This is a Howitzer gun!" He began crooning to the giant gun. Zoey rolled her eyes. "Any way we can get on that bridge to catch up with them?"

Louis squinted ahead. "I think this road leads to that bridge just past this barrier! Don't know how we're gonna get around it, though."

Francis looked at the identical black military barrier. "Why don't we _shoot_ it down?" he told them. The other three survivors turned at him with skeptical faces. "Trust me, this gun's got a _lot_ of punch. It doesn't shoot bullets. It shoots freakin' _explosions_." He turned to Bill. "Why don't we give it a shot?" he asked Bill with a hopeful face. Bill shrugged, and crossed his arms. "If that's where the military's at, then so be it. Fire away."

Francis, now quite full of glee, rushed over to the lever controlling the gun. "Stand back!" he ordered. "And cover your ears! This is gonna be _loud_!"

_KRACKA-BOOM_. The green gun blasted backwards, and the barrier ahead of them exploded in a thunderous boom that rumbled the earth and reverberated in the air. Fire sprung up where the explosion had occurred, and the awful roar of infected could be heard from miles away. "This is gonna get _ugly_!" Francis yelled, pumping his shotgun. The zombies emerged from the bottom of the hill, running up, swinging their arms wildly towards them. "Yeah!" Francis yelled, shooting at them with everyone else. Louis suddenly spotted something out of the corner of his eye on top of a building. "Ah!" he yelled, pointing his new shotgun towards it. "Smoking thing!"

He shot at it, and the zombie exploded in a giant cloud of green smoke, the body falling with a clunk onto the concrete below. In the din, Zoey looked over at the barrier, and saw the fire had cleared. "Come on, guys!" she yelled. "Let's go!"

The four ran forwards, shooting at the advancing infected behind them. The bridge was long and cluttered with abandoned ambulances, cars, military trucks, you name it. They reached the other side, panting. The infected on the other side of the river were well away from them now. Bill looked up, and saw a spray painted house drawing on a brick wall, with an arrow pointing towards a door. "I think we got a safe room, people!" he yelled, climbing down the hill off the road. "Follow me!"

They carefully climbed down, and entered the large brick building. Inside was the familiar red metal door. They walked in, and Francis shut the door, pushing a few crates in front of it. They sat on the tables provided.

"Well," Louis said, wiping at his face with his hand. "That went pretty _well_!"

"No _shit_, kid," Bill muttered, taking a swig from a bottle of water and lighting a cigarette.

"So I guess we keep looking around?" Zoey asked, tentatively feeling at her ear.

"Looks like it," Bill said, picking up some ammo, not looking up.

The four survivors opened the metal door, stepping out into the moonlight. The wind picked up slightly, and they navigated the expanses of the industrial areas of Reading. There were only a few infected in this small town.

"How's the ear?" Louis asked gently. "Better," Zoey responded, touching it again. "It doesn't feel like I got _shot_ anymore. But really, I don't even know what _that_ feels like."

They walked onwards. Every now and then they saw a long-tongued Smoker, or a zombie ambling about, but it was generally quiet.

Not long later, they heard a faint... crying noise.

"Aw, _damn it_," Francis mumbled, craning his neck to see where the noise was coming from. "It's another of those freaking Witches."

"We're calling them _Witches_ now?" Zoey asked, raising an eyebrow. Francis looked towards her.

"Yeah! Why _not_? She's _evil_! Makes me want to burn her at the _stake_! Like, eh, those... knights."

Zoey stared at him. "You mean during the medieval ages?

Francis nodded solemnly, not once diverting his attention from searching for the crying's source. "_Exactly_."

They walked a little further, and eventually could see in the distance the crouching girl, sobbing into her clawed hands. Francis backed away slightly at the sight.

Francis turned to Louis. "Hey, why don't you go talk to that crying girl? She looks sad."

Louis frowned defiantly. Then, his face brightened up.

"Hey! Maybe if we just don't bother _her_, she won't bother _us_!" Louis said optimistically.

Zoey put a finger to her cheek. "That's... a long shot, Louis."

Bill turned to them. "Actually, that might not be a bad idea. We're close enough as it is to be spotted by her. Maybe if we walk slowly and far away enough it will work."

Zoey winced. "Gee, Bill, I dunno, this isn't really such a good-"

Bill frowned. "Remember when we saw that first, uh, Witch? Back in Philadelphia? It didn't see us at _all_, and we were just eight feet away."

Francis snorted. "Yeah, until Louis barged in and blared his flashlight in her face. I don't blame her there."

Louis grimaced. "How was _I_ supposed to know-"

"_Shh_!" Bill whispered, crouching. They followed suit, and together, carefully stepped widely around the Witch, giving it a wide berth. Seconds later, and they were on the other side of the Witch, and she hadn't noticed anything.

"Yeah! Nice idea, Louis!" Zoey said, giving him a light high-five. They walked on.

Eventually, they reached an old recycling plant. "Let's check this out," Bill muttered, and walked inside the gate. The other three followed.

Suddenly, Bill picked up his pace, limping slightly on his leg. "Hey!" Francis objected, running to keep up. "What's the deal, Bill? Did you see some _prunes_ or something?" And Francis actually chuckled at that.

"_This_!" Bill loudly said, pointing towards an armored truck suspended in the air. It was held up in an auto shop type garage, on a hydraulic lift. "_Wow_!" Zoey mused, looking up at it. "How are we gonna get it down, though?"

"Hang on. I got this." Louis stared at the truck for a few seconds, and then at the ceiling. He then ran outside. "What's the deal, Louis?" Francis yelled at him, watching as he ran outside. "Did you see some... uhhh... _business meetings_ to go to?" Francis had a weak chuckle, glanced around, and then followed the others.

"Check it out!" Louis yelled, pointing at a white generator. A long black wire fed from it to a control panel on the wall of the garage. "Think this'll work?" Bill asked, stroking his beard. "Sure it will!" Louis proudly said, adjusting his red ripped tie. "Just pull the crank there."

Francis knelt down grabbed the handle, and pulled. It purred, roared to life, and there was a loud squeaking noise coming from the hydraulic lift. The truck began to be lifted down, although agonizingly slowly. "Yeah!" Louis yelled, clapping his hands. "What do you guys make of _that_, huh?"

Zoey looked behind them. "Uh, guys? I think we're attracting some... unwanted attention."

A few dozen zombies were running straight towards them, and there were plenty more climbing over a fence to their left. "Shoot!" Bill ordered, and they all opened fire upon the lot. The moments passed.

"How long is this gonna take, Louis?" Bill yelled over the gunfire and screams of infected.

"Uh, shouldn't take too long!" he yelled back, blasting his shotgun straight into the face of a running zombie. "The lift probably needs lubrication! That's why it's-" There was another roar of infected. "-squeaking so loudly!"

They ran inside, climbed a set of stairs overlooking the garage, and used the height to their advantage. "This thing had better come down in five minutes or we're not gonna outlast this!" Francis yelled over the din. Louis looked quite nervous.

A crouching, hooded figure growled beneath their platform. "Oh, _shit_!" Zoey yelled. "It's a Hunter!"

"I thought we were calling 'em _pouncers_!" Francis screamed over the noise. He quickly aimed down, and shot the Hunter to death with his combat shotgun.

Suddenly, the generator shut off with a clunk, and the lights went out. The lift shuddered with a stop. "What the hell?" Zoey yelled, looking around. They heard an approaching rumbling sound.

"It's a friggin' _Tank_!" Francis yelled, blasting away with his shotgun at the monstrosity. "Everyone! _Shoot it!_"

They all opened fire, but even with their combined strength, it wasn't going to go down that easily. "Shit!" Louis yelled as the Tank approached. "Someone has to restart the generator, or else we're not gonna get out of here!"

Zoey yelled, "I'll do it! Francis, come with me!"

The two ran outside, the infected surrounding them. Francis fought them off as a tight circle enclosed around them. "Christ..." Bill muttered, watching.

Seconds later, the generator hummed to life, and the lights flickered back on. "Go! Go! _Go_!" Zoey yelled to Francis as she frantically ran to escape the horde.

The lift started, shuddered to a halt, and utterly fell all the way to the bottom, the hydraulics having failed. "The truck's ready!" Bill yelled as Louis and Zoey climbed in. "Come _on_, Francis!"

"Right behind ya!" Francis screamed as around ten zombies trailed behind him. "I'm driving!" he yelled, jumping in the back, and running towards the front of the truck. "Hold on tight, kids! This is the Magic School Bus... _taking off_!"

"Just fucking _go_!" Zoey yelled as Louis chuckled to himself. The truck started up, and drove straight through the incoming zombies. A Tank could be seen off to the side, charging straight for them. "_Drive_!" Zoey screamed, clutching the seat. The truck smashed through a metal gate, and was straight onto the main road heading west. The survivors have escaped.

* * *

NOTE: *epic theme music* So yeah! That's Crash Course. It's literally the shortest campaign out of this entire fan fiction, and even then it wasn't exactly short. Next up is Death Toll, and after that we will have another interlude. There will be a lot more interludes in L4D2, since very little is revealed to us in the plot of L4D1.

Did you guys hear the news about a Left 4 Dead 3? Some guy was doing a tour of the Valve offices, and snapped a pic of what looks like a private change log on a monitor, and there were several mentions upon which included L4D3. So, what, do I have to rewrite my entire fiction now that there's a new game? That's a lot of plot! How do I compensate for all of that? If they do make it, it'd better come out in 2015 or something, way after I've finished this fiction, otherwise I'll feel like this fiction has a giant hole in it. Also, I don't think there was any mention of a Half-Life 3. Man. It's been like 5 years now. So, anyway, review, please, favorite, and follow if you want to receive regular updates on this story! Please! It's a _good bargain_! It literally costs nothing apart from cheap, lovely bandwidth! And you already use that anyway. And it generates more attention to this story! _Everybody_ is happy!


	8. Death Toll

_Hell came to Earth. These four are gonna send it back._

* * *

**Day 15. October 3, 2009. 8:56 P.M.**

It was a dark, windy night. Leaves were strewn all across the tree lined road. The moonlight gently spilled through the pine trees, eventually landing upon the flat road. Rotting corpses were piled up along side a the road. And parked just before a fallen tree sat a blue armored truck, its four passengers standing before the fallen monstrosity.

"Well. _Now_ what?" Zoey asked, checking her pistol for any damage. Bill scratched his gray beard. "Well, I think we could walk from here if we had to. Sharpsburg's just a few miles away."

"You actually think the military's here?" Francis asked him. Louis turned upon him.

"Why _not_?" Louis spoke, shrugging his shoulders. "We're _really_ far away from Philadelphia. If this is where they're evacuating people, then this is where we need to be." He then pointed to a wooden sign past the tree. An abandoned police car's headlights shone upon it, the sign reading "_Historic Sharpsburg_". "I bet we're right outside the city limits," Louis concluded, sniffing.

Zoey nodded. "Unless anybody has a better plan, I say we head there."

The four carefully climbed over the fallen tree, and walked along the road. Deserted cars lined the sides, and rotting bodies were every step of the way.

"Let me just get somethin' straight here," Francis began as they walked along. "This _isn't_ a big city, right?"

Zoey nodded. "My uncle Brian lives here. It's a small town, trust me. There _might_ be a few infected coming from Pittsburgh down the river, but otherwise, we're good."

Francis slowly nodded satisfactorily.

To their dismay, there were a few infected ambling about the abandoned cars. While taking care of the stray zombies was by no means difficult, it did mean there was a slightly less chance of the military hanging around. "We'd better hurry..." Bill muttered, and picked up the pace.

A few steps later, and they came to a large bridge that had buckled and fallen into a dry ravine. It was shallow enough to see the bottom quite well, but deep enough so that a fall would most likely be fatal. "Great," Zoey sighed, and crossed her arms.

Bill's beard contracted, and he pointed, saying, "Hold up, now, I think we can get across up that ladder." He pointed towards a ladder that went up a concrete wall onto the road. They carefully made their way down into the canyon-like formation, and slowly climbed up to meet a large tunnel, above which a sign read, "_Sharpsburg_".

Louis smiled. "Hey, I think we can just go straight into the town this way!"

They ventured into the tunnel, wary of any infected about to storm them. Surprisingly, there were very few. "Maybe the military's cleared out most of the area," Zoey mused to herself. The other three didn't say anything.

Eventually, they arrived to a large, black metal barrier. Road blocks were placed in front of it, and barbed wire was along the top. "Looks like the army's here after all!" Francis proclaimed, scratching his goatee. Zoey frowned. "But how are we going to get around it?"

Bill pointed to a door on the side of the tunnel. "Maybe we can get around that way," he said, and the other three nodded. They climbed in, and descended the steps. Louis wrung his hands, and looked around as the steps continued to descend. "Man, I dunno, guys, maybe this just keeps going down..."

Luckily, however, they arrived in a medium sized storage room. Concrete walls lined the sides, and several doors offered multiple exits. "What _is_ this place?" Francis asked.

"Looks like a fallout shelter," Bill told them, looking towards the empty shelves and cots. "I'm not too sure, though. Maybe we can find a way to get around."

They poked around for a bit, searching the rooms. "Hey!" Francis called in the underground, echoing room. "I think this door goes up to the surface!"

The other three gathered around the opening. Deep moonlight flooded in from above, and the wind shook the tree tops. Off in the distance, between cliff sides, was a red metal door. "Nice job!" Louis cheerily said, and they made their way into the safe room above, though not without some oppression from a lumbering Boomer.

Safely inside, they regrouped, figuring out where to go. "Any clue where we are, Zoey?" Bill asked her, apprehension on his face. Zoey shrugged. "Hey, I only go here once or twice a year, and I sure as hell didn't go down into the _sewers_. Sorry. We'll find the town, don't worry."

They took care of their ammunition, had a little snack, and opened the adjacent door, leading into what appeared to be a large drainage system. "Don't get separated, people!" Francis yelled, taking care not to get his pants too terribly wet in the sludgy sewer water. They continued on, heading up whenever possible.

Soon, they arrived in an antechamber, a low layer of water on the floor. Bill searched around, and quickly pointed upwards.

"That pipe'll get us up to the surface. It dumps right in here! I'll bet my _beard_ it's some drainage pipe leading right up to main street..."

Francis chuckled. "Yeah, but I don't think we're gonna get a good boost up a _ten foot wall_. How the hell do we get up there?"

Louis quickly scanned the room before Bill could even muster a response. "Guys!" he yelled, pointing. "That's a _bridge_ up there we have to lower!"

He was pointing towards a rusting mechanical structure that led all the way across the gap to a ladder. "Good thinking, son," Bill said, and the four climbed up. Francis pulled down on the lever.

It jolted, and sparks flew out everywhere. "Aw! _Damn_!" Francis shrieked, shaking his hand and backing away. The bridge shuddered, and began squeaking down in a tremendous whine that threatened to burst their eardrums. "_Shit_!" Zoey yelled, cupping her ears. "Do you think we're far enough underground for them not to-"

A distant, collective roar sounded from the echoing pipe. "Well, at least we know that pipe goes to the surface!" Louis said optimistically with a smile. Even Zoey grimaced. The zombies poured out as the bridge descended agonizingly slowly, taking its time. "Come _on_, damn it!" Francis cried while blasting his shotgun into the face of a sprinting zombie. Then, the gate opened, and the bridge finally finished, slowing to a halt. "Let's go, people! _Move it_!" Bill yelled, running across. A few seconds later, as Louis was the first to jump into the pipe, an approaching rumbling sound came near. "Oh fuck!" Zoey yelled. "We got a... uh, Tank! Get the hell out of here!"

They ran down the pipe, Louis leading. Suddenly, his eyes flew open with horror, and he collapsed onto his backside. "What's the matter, Louis? Let's go!" Bill yelled. The thumping was getting nearer.

Louis pointed with a shaking white hand towards a crouched, gray girl, sobbing in the middle of the pipe ahead. "Oh... shit! _Shit_! Shiiit..." Zoey murmured, as the Tank drew closer. "What do we _do_?" she whispered harshly to Bill. Bill was running his hands through his hair under his cap, his lit cigarette falling to the base of the pipe. "Uhhh..." he stammered, just as the Tank entered the antechamber they were in earlier.

"Screw it!" Francis yelled, and shot his shotgun straight into the Witch. "Everybody shoot or she'll get _all of us_!"

The four blasted away at the Witch, her screaming rebounding all across the narrow pipe, drawing nearer with her arms outstretched. Luckily, the brute force of the bullets were slowing her down considerably.

"What the hell is _wrong_ with her?" Louis yelled among the noise. "She won't... _die_!"

Seconds later, after the last of Louis's ammunition was spent, the Witch collapsed with a cry, right when the Tank jumped into the pipe, growling. "_Run like hell_!" Zoey screamed, and the four of them sprinted through the pipes, going further and further upwards. Eventually, they reached an opening into the night air. Panting, they ran for the adjacent building, upon which a spray painted house was drawn. "Run... for the... _christ_..." Bill gasped, limping for the door. The Tank drew nearer, getting ready to rip a portion of the ground to toss at them.

"Get _in_, Bill!" Zoey yelled, her arm outstretched as she held onto the opened metal door. Bill was heaved inside with the others, shutting the door quickly, right when a giant block of concrete was hurled into the metal, making a loud clunk sound and denting the door considerably. Louis backed away slowly, his eyes wide.

"What do we do?" he yelled, as another dent was made in the door, this time deeper. Francis pumped his shotgun like a badass, and pointed towards the exit door.

"We get ammo, and run!" he yelled at Louis and Bill, as another rock collided into the back door. One of the hinges popped off, and the Tank could be seen right outside it.

Moments later, they burst out of the other door, and into a train yard. Bill was still wheezing from the earlier exertion.

"Okay, that Tank's going to have a hard time getting past that second door," Zoey said in between pants. The first door lay on the floor of the compartment, the second currently being attacked by the Tank. "I think we can just lose it if we run fast enough. We're _right outside_ the town now."

They ran, Louis supporting Bill with his shoulder. They climbed over a parked train, and landed on a paved road heading west. "This is it!" Zoey yelled, pointing ahead. "Sharpsburg city limits! Let's hurry!"

They slowed down slightly, as the Tank couldn't be heard at all anymore. There were more and more infected as they drew closer to the town, but nothing they couldn't handle. An abandoned house later, and they arrived at the Sharpsburg First Church.

Zoey stepped through the graveyard right outside it, walking normally now, but still panting slightly. The other three walked beside her. "This church is right outside the actual town," she explained, as they drew nearer. "It almost looks like a military _holdout point_."

"Then where's the army?" Francis wondered.

"_Shh_!" Bill suddenly whispered, and crouched. Murmuring noises could be heard coming from the church.

"Aw yeah, I _knew_ they were here!" Louis said with a raised voice, and Francis hit him upside the head. Bill crept forward.

"...better safe than sorry... _better safe than sorry_... you're gonna need a... must be immune..." could be heard coming from the church behind a red safe room door. Bill put a finger to his lips, while Francis put a hand on his shoulder and whispered, "I got this, guys."

Francis strutted up to the door. The was a small yelp from the safe room. "Who's there?" a frightened, gravely voice cried out.

Francis put his hand on the door, and said, "Don't worry. I'm a _cop_. I'm here to inspect... whatever it is you're so worked up over."

There was a brief scuffling noise behind the door, and suddenly the voice rang out again. "No, no, _no, no_. I don't trust the infected. Stay back! I, I've got a bell!"

Bill suddenly spoke up. "Listen, sport, we're nice people. I promise you, we won't hurt you, and we're not infected. We're living, aren't we?"

The voice flew into an outrage. "Not infected? _Not infected_? Prove it! Ding dong! _Ding dong_!"

Suddenly, the giant brass church bell began ringing, drawing in almost every zombie within a two mile radius. "_Ding dong_! _Ding dong_! Dinner is served!" the voice screamed. "Come and _get it_!"

Francis started pounding on the door as the infected ran into the graveyard towards you. "I'm gonna _come in there_ and shove that _bell_ up your _ass_!" he yelled, slamming his fist into the heavy door.

They shot away with their weapons at the oncoming zombies, blasting away any that got near. A particularly large group was being lead by a Hunter as the bell tolled on. Bill reached into his pocket, and pulled out another Molotov cocktail, yelling, "_Fire_!"

The resulting flame took out all the nearing infected, silencing them along with the bell. Francis pounded on the door again. "I'm gonna arrest you for that!" he yelled into the small peephole. Oddly enough, there was an odd growling noise coming from behind the metal.

"..._must be immune_..." it snarled, and there were thumping noises on the floor. Louis stepped back cautiously. "..._better safe than... windshields_..."

Everything it said after that was incomprehensible. A metal clanging sound could be heard on the other side, and Bill slowly stepped forward to open it. It slowly opened with a long creak, and behind the door was not a survivor, but an zombie with an incredibly long tongue, a toothy grimace, and a navy blue cap upon the top of its head.

"Gah!" Zoey cried out, tripping and falling over backwards. "_Smoker_!"

Bill grimaced and shot out at the creature, killing it in a puff of smoke. It crumbled onto the floor, and Zoey glanced at it pitifully as Louis secured their entrance. There was silence for a few moments, and Louis muttered, "We might as well get going."

They readied their guns, drank some water, and burst open the door to Sharpsburg.

The military isn't here.

_Nobody's here_.

Everyone's _infected_.

The four stared out onto the scene. The Shell station across the street was slowly burning, the entire structure having collapsed. The infected wandered about the streets, and smoke drifted from a burning trash can down the way. The moon, now lowering, created a landscape that seemed to illuminate everything in a dreamy pale blue. If you ignored the fresh bodies, bloodstains, and abandoned cars, it might be a nice place to spend a Sunday evening.

The four walked along the street, now out of options. "We could always hightail it out of here," Francis kept suggesting. Zoey quickly put those suggestions to a halt when she mentioned her uncle might still be in town. They trudged through the streets, shooting down the infected that seemed to be in larger numbers than a town like this should have.

"I guess they were evacuating people through the town," Louis mused to himself, looking at the abandoned military jeeps and equipment as they passed.

"Yeah, this was the evacuation point for people heading out of Pittsburgh," Bill said as they walked forward. They soon arrived at a dead end, blocked by a tall barricade with barbed wire on the top. "Let's find a way through these buildings," Zoey suggested, pointing towards the alleyway to their right.

They navigated their way through some abandoned offices, and soon arrived on the Main Street. A cinema was just across the road, and barricades, debris, and bodies all hindered their progress through the town. A few minutes later, and Francis realized with a loud yell, "There's no god damned way _out_ of this mess!"

"_Quiet_!" Bill hushed him, and looked around with a weary face. _Being over seventy years old in a zombie apocalypse didn't exactly do wonders for life expectancy, but he was doing better than most other people his age_, he thought.

Then, he spotted something that might actually work. "Over here," he called to the others, and walked towards what appeared to be a forklift.

"What in the name of hell is a _forklift_ doing out here?" Francis wondered, looking around. They weren't in an industrial area or anything. Bill leaned forward and started to fiddle with the controls. "Aha," he said, "I think I can-"

The forks began lifting downwards, pulling along with it the part of a roof. Bill smiled, and said to the others, "See, we can use this as a bri-"

The lift suddenly slammed down, ripping the roof portion off, and creating a din that rocked into the distance. "Oh, _not again_..." Francis muttered, cocking his shotgun.

"Let's just _go_!" Bill yelled, running up the newly created ramp over the rubble. "Just look around for a safe room! We're getting out of the town!"

Zoey looked quite dismayed, but nevertheless followed Bill with the others. They ran through the town as the zombies approached once again, sprinting to the four lone survivors. Louis suddenly looked down an alleyway, skidded to a stop, and yelled, "Wait, guys! _This way_!"

The others turned around, and followed him. At the very end of the alleys, a lone safe house door stood, beckoning to them. Zoey was one of the first inside. "Come _on_, guys!"

They ran inside, and quickly shut the door behind them. Sighing, Zoey sat onto the ground, her head in her hands. There was a moment of brief calm.

"Where's Louis?"

There was a loud, frantic scream from outside. "_Shit_!" Francis yelled, quickly opening the door to look. Louis was on the ground, about two dozen zombies encircling him. A Hunter was on his stomach, clawing away at his shirt, snarling. "_Aaaghhh_!" he screamed, trying to get the Hunter off. "Get it! _Get it_! Get it _off me_!"

The three survivors burst through, blasting their weapons at the zombies attacking Louis. Francis and Zoey frantically grabbed onto Louis arms, and dragged him inside, away from the infected running towards them. Bill stood aside, shooting away at the approaching zombies. "Go! Inside!" he yelled as everyone made it in. The door was blocked with a filing cabinet. Francis sighed unsteadily, and muttered, "How bad is it?"

Louis laid on a table. Deep gashes ran through his arm and stomach. His tie was almost completely ripped to shreds, apart from the top six inches or so. Blood pulsed out of his wounds, and he cringed in pain.

Zoey stepped back, one hand on her stomach and the other on her mouth. Bill grimaced, and pulled out a red first aid kit. "Don't worry, I was a soldier. I know how to treat wounds. But if this gets _infected_..."

Zoey looked up. "But we're _resistant_, right?" she asked with a pleading look in her eyes. Bill shook his head slightly.

"That Hunter had its claws literally _inside_ Louis. Scratches are apparently fine, since we aren't infected obviously, but _this_..."

Louis was breathing rapidly, and started to speak. "G-guys, I just want you to know, if-if I turn, y-you can shoot me..."

Bill sighed and began to work on his wounds with a steady hand. "Son, you are going to survive this. I can assure you that. It doesn't matter if you get infected or not. You _will_ survive."

Bill realized that wasn't exactly encouraging, as Louis's eyes flew wide open. "Uh. Never mind. Point is, I'll do _everything I can_ to get you through this. Now, I can promise you that."

Louis laid his head back down unsteadily. "We might be here a while..." Bill muttered as he worked the wounds.

The minutes passed. Francis eventually took to playing tic-tac-toe with Zoey on the wall with an Expo marker. After almost an hour of that, Zoey said, "Alright, that's thirteen draws, six wins for you, and eight wins for me. I'm bored. I win."

Francis kicked the wall grumpily. "No _fair_. You went first almost _every single time_. Just give me three more turns."

"Francis, we literally took _turns_ going first-"

Bill spoke up finally, his eyes lined with dark circles. "I think I'm finished. Louis, you're all patched up."

Louis carefully stood up. There were long bandages along his sides where he'd been hit the worst. Blood already stained the gauze, but it was certainly doing a lot to stop the bleeding. "Thanks, man," Louis said shakily, feeling alongside his wound and buttoning up his shirt.

Francis smirked. "Man, _incredible_. The company executives are going to _have_ to promote you now. Rising the corporate ladder. You're finally ascending the _god-tiers_. Janitor promotion, _here we come_!"

Louis grimaced at him. "Man, screw you. I'm a Junior Systems Analyst at _Franklin Brothers_, you know."

Francis gaped at him, and covered his mouth. "_That's incredible_!" he yelled, running his hands through his hair.

Louis snorted. "Come on. Grow up."

Bill munched on some trail mix. "If we're all ready to go, and Louis is feeling up to it, then we might as well get a move on. We can escape the town before daylight, I bet."

Louis nodded, still watching Francis apprehensively. "Yeah, I'm up to it. Thanks again, Bill."

Bill waved down the appreciations with his hand. "Don't mention it, kid. We stick together. No _way_ we were gonna leave you back there."

Francis rubbed the back of his head. "I dunno..." he said, slightly sarcastically. Zoey thumped him in the back. He spoke again quickly. "Oh, yeah, totally, man. We. Are. Here for you. _All the way_. One hundred percent, man."

"Yeah, I get it, Francis. Thanks, man." Louis said, holding his hand up and grinning slightly. "Let's just get going before this situation somehow gets even _worse_."

"Let's get to it, then," Zoey said, and opened up the door.

The four survivors emerged out onto the street, though now it appeared as though they were on the entire other side of the town. All was quiet except the incoherent mumbling of infected around them. A few seconds later, a distant jet roared above them.

"So where'd the military go?" Louis asked as the set off further away from the city.

Bill shrugged. "You can't really land jets in Sharpsburg. They've probably got a base somewhere around here. They might even be stationed in Pittsburgh."

Zoey looked up as they passed the houses. "Pittsburgh? Do you think we should head there?"

Francis smirked and stepped over the body of a soldier. "Doubt it. The _last_ thing we need is another city to get trapped in. I think we should just get out of the country altogether. They probably quarantined America, or something."

Bill shrugged. "Whatever gets us to safety is fine by me."

Suddenly, Zoey pointed ahead of them. "That's _it_!" she cried, pointing towards a small blue home down the road. "That's my uncle's house!"

They walked up to it, and began poking around. The military had apparently used it as a choke point. "His car isn't here," she observed.

"Maybe he got evacuated!" Louis said. "I mean, he lives in the town where they set up the point. Maybe he was able to get out with the army."

"Then why isn't his car here?" Zoey demanded. Bill tentatively put a hand on her shoulder, and she stomped away. Francis raised an eyebrow.

"Zoey..." Bill said carefully. "...he probably _did_ get out, if his car's gone. Don't worry, I'm sure he's fine."

Zoey whipped her head around. Her eyes were in tears. "But, but, we _don't know_ that! You _don't understand_! They're the _only_ family I've got _left_!"

There was a silence that lasted a few moments. Another jet roared overhead. Zoey wiped her eyes, and muttered, "Let's just get out of this god damned town." With that, they headed off into the forest behind the house.

They were walking for a while, until Bill finally said, "Maybe we should set up camp or something. It'll be morning soon."

Louis shrugged, his eyes apprehensive. "I don't know, I think we should hurry. We're not _that_ far from Sharpsburg. There's got to be _thousands_ of infected still in that town."

A few seconds later, Bill and Louis were still debating, when Francis pointed suddenly. "Hey, _look_!" he yelled, pointing at a large house down the trail. But behind it, was the river. Zoey gasped.

The city of Pittsburgh lay far away across the river. Smoke poured out of the skyscrapers, and another jet flew straight towards it. Distant bombs and gunfire could be heard going off in the distance. An orange glow lit up the smoke, casting an eerie color upon the city.

"...looks like the military's there after all..." Bill murmured, squinting.

Francis crossed his tattooed arms, still watching. "I dunno, it looks more like they're _bombing_ the city rather than _rescuing_ it. But hey, they're the military. They're _never_ the bad guys in zombie movies, _right_?"

Zoey tapped her cheek thoughtfully. "If we could just get a boat, we could check it out and decide whether or not we should actually risk it. You guys remember how difficult it was to get out of Philadelphia."

Bill nodded slowly. "I do think we should get a boat to at least get a better look at it. Louis, does this house have a boat anywhere nearby?"

They searched for a few minutes, when Louis called out. "You find it?" Bill called.

"No, but I found what I think is a _radio transmitter_!"

They all rushed over to him. Louis was inside the first floor of the home, proudly pointing towards a black box with a microphone attached. Francis took the transmitter, and spoke into it while pressing the button, saying, "Hey! This is the _military_. We're stuck out here. Please come-"

Bill snatched the microphone from him. "Hello? We're four survivors! Is anyone out there?"

There was a faint sizzling on the receiver, and a male voice suddenly spoke out. "_Hello? Hello! This is John Slater! I'm in a fishing vessel off the coast of Sharpsburg! Are you armed?_"

Bill spoke again, holding the microphone tightly. "Yes, yes, we are! Don't worry, we only plan on killing the infected!"

There was a long pause on the receiver. "_Okay, we're coming to pick you up! Get ready for the trip! We'll be there in ten minutes!_"

The radio crackled and died. "Oh man, I suddenly got a _bad_ feeling about this..." Louis suddenly said.

"Don't jinx us!" Francis yelled at him.

Bill put a finger to his lips at Francis. "Louis, we're fine, we're getting out of here. We literally have rescue coming within _ten minutes_. This is literally as _good as it gets_. This is rescue. These are other _survivors_."

And just then, a distant boat horn was sounded. That instant, the deafening roar of infected from Sharpsburg could be heard from off in the distance. Zombies began running down the trail towards them.

"Damn it, Louis! You _did_ jinx us!" Francis yelled, quickly readying his shotgun for the horde.

The infected sprinted in waves, increasing in number and variety each time. A lumbering Boomer got close to getting them, but Francis shot it before it got too terribly close, spewing blood and green slime all over the walls. The roars increased.

Bill yelled over the din, "They just keep _coming_! People! _Head to the balcony_!"

The four tromped upstairs, right when a now familiar rumbling noise approached. A Tank emerged from the woods, growling and throwing aside rocks as it went.

"Shoot! _Shoot_!" Louis screamed as the monster drew nearer. The four lone survivors blasted away at the Tank, but the protective layers of muscle it had protected it like a coat of armor. It roared and grabbed at the posts holding the balcony up, splintering them.

"Get off! _Get off_!" Bill yelled as the structure began to give way. He dived in a window along with Louis, and Francis grabbed on to the ledge right as it fell. "Shit!" Francis yelled, looking down. "_Zoey_!"

Zoey was lying on the ground, watching in utter terror as the Tank lifted an arm to crush her with. "Aw, _hell_..." Francis mumbled and jumped down onto the Tank's shoulders.

It roared, flinging its arms everywhere as Zoey scooted to safety. "Guys!" Francis yelled, grabbing onto the Tank's head for his dear life. "Need a _little help here_!"

Louis came sprinting down the stairs, and threw a pipe bomb right at the base of the Tank. "Francis! _Jump off_!" he yelled at him.

Francis jumped up, and grabbed onto the window ledge again with his arm, right when the bomb exploded, sending blood and Tank parts everywhere. He struggled, and was helped up by Bill. He collapsed onto the floor, panting, right when a boat horn sounded from a hundred feet away. "Let's _go_!" Bill quickly said, pulling Francis up with a mighty hand. They ran out onto the dock where the large fishing boat pulled up, its deck within stepping distance.

"_Get in_!" cried John, their captain, and all four survivors hopped on, being pulled away from the horrors of Sharpsburg, and being dragged into the next.

* * *

NOTE: Wow! That's half of Left 4 Dead. As always, review! I _feed_ on your suggestions and comments. It gives me nutrition. And please! If you like this fic, and want regular updates, favorite and follow! Also, I have no clue why New Zealand, a tiny corner of the world that give me up to _13 views_ per day (second after America), but New Zealand, _I love you too_. The original plan, literally, was to give the country of New Zealand a big role in the curing of the infection, but I cut that idea out a few months ago before I started work on the fanfiction. I now regret it _deeply_.

Oh yeah! Four years ago, within the week, the events of the Left 4 Dead universe began happening. Let's remember that as we go into October! I'm not saying you should stockpile food and guns and ammunition, _buuut_... experts agree that a zombie apocalypse caused through a disease is the most likely apocalyptic event to happen to humanity. _Just saying_.


	9. The Pittsburgh Riots

_Courage is being scared to death... and saddling up anyway._**  
**

_~ John Wayne_

* * *

**Day 16. October 4, 2009. 2:10 P.M.**

Three figures ran down a street littered with abandoned cars and flaming wreckage. A jet flew overhead, and a rather large explosion sounded off directly above them. Rubble crashed down onto the street, and the survivors ducked to avoid getting hit. A blonde haired woman wearing a tattered red dress reloaded her assault rifle.

"Come _on_!" she yelled to the other two. "Pittsburgh's airport's _just up ahead_!"

A black police officer and a man carrying a toddler ran behind her. The officer held up his hand, wheezing.

"Wait... I'm _beat_. We been runnin' for _six blocks_."

The woman stomped her high heeled shoe on the littered pavement. "If you can't keep up, we're leaving you behind." She then turned to the man with the toddler. "You. What's-your-name. Are you coming?"

He grimaced. "It's Brian. And no, I'm not going if you're going to leave him behind. He's the one who _saved_ my ass a week ago."

She crossed her arms at him. "And he'll be the one to get you killed today. Come on, they're bombing the city. Everyone else is going. We have to reserve our spots."

A lone couple ran past them, draped with ammunition belts. Gunfire rang out in the distance as jets flew overhead again. Smoke poured out of the buildings overhead. The officer stopped wheezing after a few more seconds, and said, "Alright. I'm ready. Just a couple more blocks. Name's Officer Jeb, by the way," he told the woman.

She cocked her rifle. "Scarlet. Pleased to meet you. Now, let's get the _hell_ out of here before some other horror turns around the corner. The military's kept us in this city for _too damn long_..."

They ran ahead, Brian lugging the toddler in his arms. "Why the heck do you even have a _bab_y with you?" Scarlet asked as she shot down a Smoker from a fire escape. Brian sighed. "He's my _kid_. I'm not going to just leave him on the _sidewalk_."

Officer Jeb nodded satisfactorily. Scarlet rolled her eyes. "Whatever. If he gets to be too much of an issue, then he's your problem, and not mine."

Brian nodded slowly, glancing over at Officer Jeb. The police officer shrugged as Scarlet scratched some kind of wound around her stomach area.

The ground shook tremulously, knocking out the windows of the office building they ran under. A few more minutes of running and shooting, and they had arrived at the airport. Smoke rose from the front of it, and planes took off every few minutes. Gunfire rang out nearby. Two soldiers wearing gas masks stood at the entrance, getting ready to close it.

"_Wait_!" Scarlet yelled, waving her hand. They paused, and looked up at her. One of them muttered something into its earpiece radio. He then put his hand up as they approached.

"Halt," he said, causing the group to slow to a stop. "Put down all of your weapons _immediately_."

Officer Jeb quickly glanced around, and pulled out a glock from his waistband, setting it onto the pile of discarded weapons beside the soldier. Brian carefully took out a wooden bat, and did the same. The soldier pointed towards Scarlet.

"The gun. Put it _down_. She speak English?"

Brian nodded carefully. The toddler, Kale, began to whine again.

"Put down your weapons, or I _swear_ I will shoot you right now.

Scarlet stared him down, and slowly laid her rifle to the pavement. The soldier seemed satisfied. "Good. Now, proceed to rescue stations seven and three to be classified. Step through. You're the last ones."

Scarlet looked at him, and slowly walked inside the airport lobby. The others followed into the spacious area.

"I don't trust the military," Scarlet muttered to the others as they walked through to the stations.

The glass skylight above was completely shattered, shards littering the floor around them. The sound of jets and distant explosions rang out overhead. Dozens of other people stood in line in front of some more gas masked soldiers. The lone three survivors walked forward when suddenly a terribly loud plane roared nearby. A jumbo jet soared not a hundred feet above the skylight, and slid out of sight. A few seconds later, a tremendous explosion rocked the airport, and people began screaming. The soldiers pulled out their military grade rifles on the civilians.

"Everybody _stay calm_! We are going to get you people rescued to Echo! Everyone stay inside until-"

A fighter jet soared overhead, and fired missiles directly at the airport. They crashed into the roof, sending rubble and debris everywhere. The people started screaming again, and ran up the stationary escalator towards the runway. The soldier was screaming now.

"Jesus _christ_! HQ! What the _hell_ is going on up there?" Another missile-guided explosion rocked the building, and another jet flew nearby. "Stop the bombing run!" he yelled into his earpiece inside the gas mask. He then pointed his rifle at the civilians running up the escalator. "People, stop right now! I said stop-"

His partner starting firing at the civilians, increasing the panic. Jeb pulled Scarlet and Brian out of the fray of bullets. Suddenly, an elbow crashed into the gas mask. The first soldier fell to the floor, his gas mask clattering off onto the tiles. The second soldier backed away, and pointed the rifle right at Scarlet, who emerged with the soldier's gun.

"What the _fuck_ are you guys _doing_?" she screamed at the soldier, aiming the gun right between his eyes. "You're supposed to be _rescuing us_!"

The soldier took a few steps back, looked down at his bleeding, mask-less friend, and ran out the door. "Shit, Scarlet!" Brian yelled, hoisting his child higher. "That was our only chance out of here!"

She shook her head vigorously as she looked up towards the escalator. A few people ran past them, heading towards the runway. "No. They have planes out there right now. We get in one, and we fly out of here."

Brian and Jeb exchanged worried glances, but nevertheless followed her up. They emerged at a startling scene, protected only by a sheet of plate glass.

Hundreds of people were running all over the runway, fighting to board the few working planes left. The afternoon sun shone through the smoke pouring out of the buildings around them, threatening to dip below the horizon. Officer Jeb pointed with a fat finger towards the horizon. A fighter jet barreled out of the sky, spinning wildly out of control with a wing on fire and heading directly for the people below. "The planes are _falling out of the sky!_" he yelled as the other two were transfixed upon the scene. The jet crashed with an explosion, blasting away the few non infected people left in Pittsburgh. Explosions from another jet rocked the airport again.

"We gotta get out of here, guys," Brian said as his child began to cry again. "They might, I dunno, _nuke_ the city, or something. That plane is looking more and more preferable."

"Then let's go!" Scarlet yelled, and ran out the door down onto the runway. Gunfire rang out in the distance at hurried intervals. "This way!" Scarlet called, pointing towards a large aircraft off to their left. They ran for it, when suddenly the roar of infected exploded in the distance.

"Aw, fuck! They're _comin_'!" Officer Jeb yelled, sprinting.

Just then, there was a roaring growl from nearby. A giant, muscle covered beast burst through the airport doors, heading straight for them.

"What in the name of christ is _that_?" Brian yelled, and ran with his toddler in his arms. "Wait up!" Jeb yelled.

Suddenly, a gigantic boulder ripped from the ground blasted into Jeb's body. He was thrown onto the ground, bleeding from his head. "_Augh_! Shit! Shit _shit shit_! _HELP_!"

Brian ran for him, when he was suddenly yanked by Scarlet's arm. "Leave him!" she yelled, climbing into the cockpit of the plane. "We don't have any time! That wave is almost here!"

Brian was torn between saving Jeb and escaping with Scarlet. The muscled, car sized monster pummeled Jeb to death on the ground. Scarlet looked at Brian expectantly. "Do you want your kid to live or to _die_?" she asked him. He stared at her for a few long seconds, blood pumping in his veins. He got closer to her, looked her directly in the eyes, and said, "_Fuck you_."

She stared at him as he stepped into the cockpit. He ignored her, and sat down at the seat. "I know how to fly. I learned in the Air Force. Give me a sec..."

She looked at him a while longer, and started firing at the infected drawing nearer. "Get us out of here now!" she yelled. He ignored her.

A few seconds later, the engines started up. The plane slowly hovered backwards, and turned towards the runway. Scarlet sighed, and sat down in a passenger seat, gripping on tightly.

"Hold on..." he muttered to Kale as the plane revved up, and gained speed. It pointed upwards, and in moments was flying south, away from Pittsburgh at last.

* * *

NOTE: Alright! Those three campaign chapters we had in a row? Totally won't happen again now that things are really heating up for all twelve of the survivors. Did I say twelve? That was not something I was supposed to say. Let me tell you first, though, not everyone you see in any of these interludes will show up again. I plan to have closure for ALL characters with names that I ever mention, but not all will be a survivor. This includes all interludes, like chapter three where everybody died except a few people. And by everybody I meant a bunch of people in Pennsylvania. Please review! You need not an account to review! It can be submitted under 'Anonymous'. Follow and favorite if you like this story! As always, updates usually come in less than a week, so you will get notifications on when there is a new chapter. Good deal!


	10. Dead Air

_Their flight just got delayed. Permanently._

* * *

**Day 15. October 3, 2009. 11:45 P.M.**

A large river slowly ambled along, unwary of the events of the past two weeks. A full moon threatened to dip below the horizon. To the left, a city burned, its buildings cast in a orange glow as smoke lazily drifted up into the sky. And to the right, a white fishing boat sped away from the scene of destruction.

Four figures stood on the back of the vessel. They looked onward to Pittsburgh as a voice suddenly rang out over the intercom.

"Alright, crew, put your guns down on the floor, _slowly_. I don't wanna get _shot_ or _robbed_ when I come out there."

Zoey cast a skeptical eye towards Bill. He shrugged, and said, "Do as the man says. We want to have good relationships with these people."

The four survivors laid all their weapons on the deck of the boat in front of them, and stepped back. The voice spoke again.

"Okay, thanks. Me and my friend Amanda are gonna come out and introduce ourselves."

There was a brief silence, and then the boat's engine cut off. They waited a few more moments, leaving the survivors to look around worriedly. And then, two figures stepped out of a door that led up to the bridge. Zoey made to wave, when suddenly there was a gun in her face.

"Don't make any god damned moves," John said, holding a pistol at them. "This is a _robbery_."

**Day 16. October 4, 2009. 5:24 P.M.**

"I _hate_ other survivors!" Francis screamed as they ran through the streets of Pittsburgh. A dock was right behind them, but the only boat present was a fishing boat speeding away. The four didn't have any weapons.

They ran across the street, attempting to avoid the attention of any infected that might notice them. Ashes drifted down from the sky, and the sun had just dipped below the horizon in the distance. The full moon rose slowly, almost cast in an orange glow as the fires illuminated the smoke rising upwards. Bombs sounded off in the distance, and they could hear sporadic gunfire throughout the city. Every now and then, they heard yelling, but it wasn't clear whether or not they were coming from any humans that were still alive, or from the zombies.

"Come on! We've got to get to high ground!" Bill yelled, pointing at the building across from them. They entered, slamming the door behind them, and slowly began to ascend the staircase, though with quite a degree of wheezing from Bill.

They'd ascended about four flights when suddenly a zombie came lumbering down the steps towards them. "_Augh_!" Bill yelled, stumbling backwards. "Little vampire!" Francis shouted, and kicked the zombie in the crotch. It screamed, and was thrust into the wall. Francis ran forward and punched it in the face, sending it flying to the floor. The other three stared as Francis waved them up.

"What're you waitin' on? Let's go!"

Soon, they arrived at what appeared to be a large greenhouse. A few of the transparent ceiling tiles had fallen off, allowing meager amounts of ash to drift into the room. They sighed at the sight of a large table covered with guns, supplies, and ammunition. There was a brief silence when Louis suddenly spoke.

"Well, at least there's definitely people in this city."

Bill nodded slowly as the bombs continued to rock Pittsburgh in the distance. The sounds of a jet roared in the distance.

"So what's the plan?" Francis suddenly asked. The other three survivors glanced around at each other until Bill decided to speak up.

"Well..." he began, scratching his beard. "if the military _is_ indeed around, like we suspected, they might have an evacuation point somewhere in the city. Other than that, I don't know."

Francis crossed his arms. "Well, I'm not tryin' to burst your bubble, Mr. _Bill Nye the Science Guy_, but the military seems to _really enjoy_ dropping _bombs_ on the city. That doesn't really sound like they're trying to evacuate it."

Zoey shrugged. "That's probably the best plan we've got, the evacuation point. What else are we supposed to-"

Suddenly, the building shuddered slightly, and a plane roared directly above their heads, not twenty feet above the very roof. It soared off into the distance, swaying slightly. Louis pointed. "Hey, we could fly out of here!"

Zoey and Francis stared at him, when Bill slowly nodded. "That's actually a pretty good idea," he muttered. "If there's an airport or something nearby, that would be a ticket directly out of here."

Louis clapped. "Then what are we waiting for?" he asked them, picking up a sub machine gun. "Let's go!"

And with that, the four survivors were off once again.

They were walking along a rooftop when Francis suddenly asked, "Hey, what're the odds that there actually is an airport _inside_ the city?"

"Shut up, Francis," Louis said, continuing to walk.

"No, no, I'm not tryin' to be pessimistic here, all I'm saying is, is this _really_ such a good idea? Are we just going to _look around_ for an airport? That's _crazy_! This is _Pittsburgh_! This plan'll get us _kill_-"

"_Shut up_, Francis," Zoey now said, walking on. Francis started grumbling to himself. Soon, they entered a large apartment building through the roof.

"Maybe we could find a map somewhere," Bill mumbled, checking the drawers of desks. Louis nodded, and they set about searching the apartment.

A few minutes later, Zoey suddenly called out. "I found something!" she yelled, peering under a bed. She withdrew a large, folded piece of paper, and spread it out over the bed as the other three slowly walked over to look.

At the very top of the map, bold letters read, "_Allegheny County_". At the very center of the county, Pittsburgh sat, though minuscule compared to the rest of the area. Slightly north of Pittsburgh sat Sharpsburg, only a river separating the two. Bill squinted. "I can't see the airport anywhere."

Zoey nodded, flipping the huge sheet of paper over. "But wait, there's a _whole map_ of Pittsburgh on the other side."

This side was labeled, "_Pittsburgh Urban Area_". The city of Pittsburgh took up most of the map. Sharpsburg could still be seen at the very top. However, it appeared someone had written all over the map with a permanent marker. Zoey tapped on it with her finger. "Check this out..." she quietly said, tracing the route. There was a black line that wound its way through the streets, eventually leading at a site labeled in marker, "_EVAC POINT_". However, in smaller, typed text, read, "_Pittsburgh International Airport_". It was just several blocks over.

"No god damn way," Francis mumbled, wiping his forehead. Bill smiled. "Look at that."

Louis was about to say something, most likely optimistic, when there was suddenly yelling on the street below. "_Shh_!" Bill whispered, peering out the window.

Two figures, both women, ran across the street, firing their guns at the incoming infected. One pointed off in the distance, right when a Smoker standing behind them suddenly captured one of the pair.

"Oh, jesus..." Zoey whispered, watching. The first survivor down below began rapidly firing their shotgun at the Smoker, when one of the bullets collided into a parked car, setting the automatic alarm off. The ringing echoed against the buildings around them, currently the loudest sound in the city, excluding the distant falling bombs.

"We have to help them!" Louis whispered harshly as the first survivor was now surrounded by the infected, its partner still being strangled by the Smoker. Zoey closed her eyes tightly as the screams grew louder than the alarm. And in a few short moments, all that remained was silence.

"We should get moving," Bill uneasily said, stepping away from the window. Louis was still watching, wide eyed. The alarm cut off from the attacks of the infected all over the car. Francis looked down again, and spoke up. "That's why we should stick together. A team of four is going to do much better than a team of two."

Louis stared for another second, and nodded jerkily. Bill waved them forward, and they proceeded downstairs to the very bottom.

The four emerged out onto the city street, blasting away at the remaining infected drawn to the scene. The bodies laid all over the ground. It was impossible to tell which ones were the previous survivors. Bill pointed awkwardly as Zoey and Louis peered around. "The route says there's a safe room in this hotel," he said, pointing at a tall building, its doors wide open. "We should go here."

There was a pause, and then they followed, entering the hotel. Right past the lobby, a red metal door safe room sat, in what used to be a kitchen. Graffiti was all over the dimly lit walls, as Francis securely shut closed the door.

There was yet another silence as the four reloaded weapons and ate from the kitchen's plentiful supply of food. As Francis munched on a loaf of stale bread, Louis spoke.

"Do any of you guys ever think about how convenient these safe rooms are?"

Zoey looked at him skeptically. Francis looked up in the air, apparently thinking to himself. Bill lit another cigarette. Louis desperately looked around at the three, he started to elaborate.

"Well... I mean, they're always common enough to be found within walking distance of each other. They're bullet proof, blast proof, _infection proof_-"

Francis snorted. "Not _blast proof_. That god damned Tank _blasted_ through the _shit pile_ of a safe room back in Sharpsburg. It just flew _right off_ the-"

Zoey interrupted, stating, "Francis, blast proof means _explosive proof_."

He rolled his eyes. "How am I supposed to know? If you wanna say explosive proof, then god damned _say_ explosive proof, not weird _analograms_ or the like."

Louis stared at him for a few long seconds. He then spoke. "...analogra-? Look, my point is," he said, holding his hands up, "it's not what you'd really expect, right? I mean, there's always food, water, ammunition, guns..." He stopped speaking when nobody was paying attention. "...man, forget it," he mumbled, crossing his arms.

Francis chuckled, reloading his SPAS-12. "I'm not really even sure what you're tryin' to suggest, Louis, but I don't think there's an invisible man floatin' around buildin' these safe rooms for us. People need a place to hole up, so these safe rooms are all over the place. That's all there is to it."

Louis apparently didn't seem content, so Bill got up, and said, "We ready to go? I've traced our route to the next safe room. Just a few blocks from here. We've gotta take a shortcut through some crane, but we'll manage."

The four exited out the safe room, and began ascending the hotel's floors. Quite a number of infected were around the hotel, and, while the survivors had little trouble with the lot (except for a Hunter who swiftly pounced upon Louis when he turned the corner), it didn't bode well. If they attracted a lot of attention in any way, it could possibly mean their deaths.

They emerged onto the roof, the giant orange moon high in the sky now. Ash drifted down from the tall burning buildings not far from them, creating the illusion of snow drifting from above. Explosions boomed nearby, and Louis was able to point out a soaring jet in the sky.

"Okay," Bill muttered, looking around the area. "There should be a way across the rooftops somewhere around here. Then, we'll be able to look around and point out the airport from this height."

It seemed like a pretty good plan, even to Francis, so they headed off. A few infected dotted the scene, but since it was the rooftops, there was no real threat at the moment.

After a while, the crew found their path blocked. "What the hell?" Francis yelled, looking up a ten foot high wall to where they needed to go. "This is where we go next! Did the previous guys take the rope or something?"

"No, wait, look up there!" Zoey called, pointing above them. A construction crane sat on the roof, but high above, suspended through a series of pulleys and cables, was a large dumpster with a ladder on it. While it was much to high to be of any use at the moment, Zoey was already formulating a plan to get it down and usable. She climbed the ladder to the crane, and inspected the controls.

"What the hell do you think you're doin'?" Bill yelled, but she held up a finger. "Wait!" she called, spotting a switch. "I think I can get that garbage bin down!"

She threw down a lever, and the crane rumbled to life, allowing the arm to slowly extend downwards, right towards where they needed it to be. She climbed down, grinning broadly at the three, when the roars of infected from the floors below them shuddered the air.

The grin was replaced by a dawning look of horror as infected came pouring out the building beside them, shrieking up a storm. "_Fire_!" Bill yelled, spraying away with his assault rifle, taking down many of the incoming.

The thundering of the footsteps roared around them as more and more zombies emerged onto the roof. "Christ!" Francis screamed, shooting down a smoker with his shotgun. "The rooftops aren't safe!"

"This way!" Louis suddenly called, pointing towards a shattered window in a tall building adjacent to them. They quickly climbed up the dumpster, ran across the elevated roof, and made the leap into it. Power was no longer available throughout the city, apart from private generators still chugging along. The four survivors navigated the mostly dark office building, their flashlights being their only guides. Every so often, the floor beneath them shuddered. They'd lost the infected, but the presence of oblivion via rocket missile was still lingering with them. Francis poked around the sterile rooms.

"Feelin' nostalgic yet, Louis?" Francis asked with a chuckle. Louis sneered, and looked around. "I think we should just go ahead and go down to street level. The airport can't be far now."

"About that," Bill muttered, glancing around the deserted cubicles. "It turns out we were supposed to take a fire escape off that building we were just on. We're only a couple blocks over, but I'm not so sure about finding a safe room..."

Zoey nodded slowly, digesting the information. There were a bunch of infected in the building, but not as many as, say, an apartment building, or the streets below. Apparently clocking in on time didn't matter when a zombie apocalypse was imminent.

They eventually reached the bottom floor, emerging onto the debris covered street. Ash still floated down from the air in higher quantities now, and flames roared out of a building down the road. Jet contrails lined the sky above, obscured only by rising smoke. Abandoned cars littered the streets, providing cover from any running zombies. The putrid smell of death hung in the air.

"Let's get moving," Bill muttered, walking to where his map said the airport was. "Now, we're on the corner of Rose Street and Forbes Avenue, so we'll need to take a left on the... wait..."

Bill strode off, thinking to himself as Zoey giggled. "I haven't seen him _that_ concentrated since he was checking out _Amanda Slater_," she joked. That got a laugh out of Francis, and a small chuckle from Louis. "Dude," Francis whispered, leaning closer to Zoey, "he's like a _hundred years old_. No way that chick was gonna take on some of _that_. Besides, she's _married_!"

Zoey quickly glanced behind her, where Bill was studying the map. "It doesn't matter anymore if you're married or not," she muttered, leaning in. "I noticed John Slater staring at my _boobs_. I mean, sure we're closer together age-wise than _Bill_, but-"

"Wha?" Bill suddenly yelped, looking up from the map at them. Zoey shot up, back erect, and glanced around. Francis was pretending to be studying a hospital advertisement of a bus station, and Louis was tying his already tied shoes. "Um..." she mumbled, stuttering. "I was just talking about... how good you are with that assault rifle?"

There was an awkward pause as Louis stopped tying his shoe, kneeling down, listening in. Francis had a hand over his own face. Bill squinted, and muttered, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I told you I was in Vietnam. Veteran, you know, means-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know what it means," Zoey quickly said, waving her arms around, frantically nudging Francis in the stomach with her elbow. "I just was saying..."

She appeared lost for words, cheeks flaming in embarrassment. Bill shrugged, and returned to his map gazing.

Minutes later, they arrived at the predestined safe room, not far from the airport. Bill reloaded his guns, and declared, "Alright, we gotta get through a construction site first, walk through some horseshit power plant, and then we're at the airport. That's where the evacuation point is. Now, I'm not expecting soldiers or anybody at _all_ here, but flying out of here..." he let out a light chuckle and shook his head, "...would be hell of a lot easier than walking out of this place."

Francis was apparently envisioning such a scenario in his head. "Yeah, but," he argued, pointing his partially gloved finger, "none of us even know how to _fly_ a plane. How the hell are we supposed to start it up, let alone _land it_?"

Bill waved him down. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

Francis crossed his arms, staring Bill down. "No. No. I'm not taking that option. If we can't fly, then that means running all the way to the airport without knowing what the _hell we're gonna be doing_ is gonna be a _giant fucking waste of time_. I'm not _dying_ over something like that."

Louis rolled his eyes. "Francis, there's probably people waiting there already for us."

Francis's eyes widened in disbelief. "Are you _shitting me_?" he practically yelled, pointing out a window with a shaking hand. "The army is _bombing_ Pittsburgh! No way in _hell_ are they even _considering_ letting anything get out of here! I'm surprised they don't just _nuke_ the city and be done with it!"

Louis's eyes lit up. "Well, maybe the very fact that we _haven't_ been nuked is a _good_ sign!"

There was an ominous explosion from a jet delivered missile, and Zoey muttered, "Let's get out of this hell hole. I don't care how we do it, but Francis might be right. We should get going. This apparently isn't a city the military is keen on keeping alive. We get a plane, get it working, and get out."

Francis rubbed his temples with his fingers, groaning. Bill opened the safe room exit door, and walked into the alleyway, heading towards a tall air control tower in the distance, searchlights beaming down from it.

"This way!" he called, waving them towards what looked like an old unfinished construction site. Concrete walls stood high, and a few infected loitered about. As they progressed through the scene, firing down any zombies that were in their way, Zoey said, "Do you think it's okay to be shooting these guys?"

Francis laughed loudly. "Yeah, I think it counts as self defense, Zoey."

"No, I mean," she stuttered, looking around the deserted site, "These used to be people. I mean, they still _are_ people. It just doesn't seem right to shoot down people who are just sick with the flu."

Bill reloaded his assault rifle. "Kid, these aren't people anymore. Whatever happened to them, they won't be going back anytime soon. Even if they find a cure. You see that one over there puking up blood?" He pointed with the muzzle of his rifle at an infected woman vomiting a long stream of blood and mucus. "They don't work anymore. Their bodies..." Bill struggled for the words, scratching his green cap. "...they're not _functioning_ correctly. I don't think there's much hope for them. We just gotta thank our lucky stars that _we_ haven't gotten the virus yet."

Zoey frowned, but followed nonetheless with the others. Their path was soon blocked by a wooden barricade. Francis walked up to it, and pushed at the barricade steadily. "It's not budging!" he called back. Bill nodded, and said, "Stand back!"

Francis stared at him, and quickly jogged away from the wood. Bill knelt down, and fired once at a gas can that was directly under it. The friction from the bullet caught the can on fire. Bill grinned. "We can bur-"

KABOOM. The can exploded in a giant cascade of fire and oil, sending the heat everywhere. The barricade was down, but a giant fire had sprung up over it. Moments later, infected began landing in front of them, jumping down from the slightly shorter buildings above.

"Aw fuck! Incoming!" Louis yelled, shooting away at the falling zombies. The team was backed up into a corner, rapidly shooting away at any that neared them. A few mutations like the Boomer and the Smoker threatened to separate the group, but the team stayed compact, working like a machine. After a minute or so, the infected stopped arriving, having presumably forgotten about the racket or just gotten bored. Francis peeked around the corner.

"All clear!" he called, pointing at the charred remains of the barricade. They nodded, and walked through.

They arrived at what looked like a bunch of electrical generators. None of them knew what they were really called, but they knew that they did big important electrical things. Since the area was fenced off, there were very few zombies around.

Continuing forward, they entered the power plant, a maze of ill-placed doors and terrible lighting. After a few minutes of that, they finally arrived at the airport.

There was a giant, destroyed passenger plane directly in front of them. The road was charred and twisted around the crash site, and a tall building behind them showed considerable damage in the side. Fire gentle burned out of the jet. The airport was utterly and completely abandoned. Dead gas masked soldiers laid around the entrance. They walked towards the front doors, and discovered they were completely gated off.

"We can't get in..." Zoey slowly said, testing the glass. Francis sighed, when Louis declared, "Up there!"

Louis was pointing at a long, glass enclosed pedestrian bridge above the road. It led from a parking garage across the street all the way into the upper levels of the airport. Bill nodded satisfactorily. "That's our play, then."

There were a lot more zombies around the parking garage. They carefully climbed the concrete stairs, wary of any Smokers that might drag them down three floors, but there were relatively few mutations around. And just like that, they were on the sky-bridge above, walking straight towards what looked like a red safe room door directly ahead of them. It felt like they'd just completed a triathlon, although with considerably larger amounts of blood. It felt like victory.

Resting in the safe room felt fantastic. There were actual six packs of beer. There was guns. And there was a large bag of beef jerky on the counter of the small airport security staff lounge.

Drinking out of a Miller Lite, Francis declared, "Alright, Bill. We're here. Now _how_ are we gonna fly the plane exactly?"

Bill grimaced, chewing on beef jerky. "I told you, we'll cross that bridge when we _get_ to it."

Francis waved his finger at him. "Oh, no, you don't. We're here. We're at the airport. Going _any farther_ means we are _committed_ to flying a plane out of here, assuming that there even is just an extra plane all gassed up and ready to go, without _any_ debris or obstructions. This is bullshit, and you know it."

Louis crossed his arms. "Lighten up, Francis. What you just said was the worst possible outcome. We've gotten out of every other situation we've found ourselves in. And guess what? Our first plan worked every time."

Francis chuckled, setting down his beer can. "Lemme think about that. In Philadelphia, we thought there was gonna be people there to save us in the hospital."

"Not completely untrue," Louis argued back. Francis continued on.

"In bullshit _Lancaster County_ or whatever, we thought the military was gonna be across the bridge, which was utter horseshit. In Sharpsburg, we also thought the military was gonna be there. We just got _lucky_ when we found a boat. And then they robbed us anyway! And then we thought the military was gonna be in Pittsburgh, but that didn't turn out as we expec-"

"Shut _up_, Francis," Zoey suddenly shouted, rubbing her head. His eyebrows went up, and he muttered, "Sorry. I'm just tryin' to keep us alive."

"Well, telling us that we're going to _die_ all the time isn't really doing much for us!" she snapped at him.

There was a pause in which the only sound was the chewing of beef jerky.

"I'm sorry..." she mumbled, fingering the shotgun she carried. "...but... the reason I'm so pissed is that everything he's saying is _right_. This situation is really, _really_ hopeless. We're going to die. Civilization is _over_, and so is humanity. Running all over the state isn't even helping much. Everywhere we turn, we find death..."

Tears were now streaming out of her eyes. Francis looked aghast. She continued. "It's _over_! Everybody is _dead_! Everyone I _ever knew_! Don't you guys get that? We only know _six people_ are alive out of _how many_ dead? What the _hell_ is going on?"

She appeared to be having a mental breakdown. She collapsed into a corner, sobbing onto her gun. Bill walked forward, sat down beside her, and said, "Well, not _everybody_. We know there's people like us. We know the military is still active. For the military to be active, you gotta have a central command active. For them to be active, you gotta have at least some civilian population. It may look bad, but don't forget we're right outside the epicenter of this disaster. I'm sure there's others out there, in other states, in other countries, watching. Now," he said, standing up and pulling her with him, "I may be an old man, but I know for a fact that we are right outside rescue. I can just feel it. We're going to get into a plane and fly out of here. This is it. We can just fly south, or west. Whatever gets us away from the infection. This is the last time we'll ever have to do this."

She looked up at him. "Really?" He nodded. "Really."

There was a pause. "Do you promise that?"

Bill looked quite taken aback. "Uh..."

Francis made an obligatory '_Tell her_' gesture. Bill sighed. "I promise that we will get out of this alive. Now, don't worry. Rescue is on the way."

Francis shook his head, and they took a few more moments to rest. Louis, still glancing around, suddenly said, "Well, let's go get that plane!"

They walked outside the safe room, and took a quick look around.

The entire ceiling was blasted off of the airport lobby. Bodies were strewn everywhere, and fresh ash drifted down from the sky above. Distant explosions still sounded, but they hadn't heard any other gunfire or yelling in quite some time. Down in the lobby, two plastic fold up tables sat, one of them on its side. They looked forward. "This way," Bill pointed with a wrinkled finger at a side door. They took it, finding themselves in a small office area, presumably for airport business.

There were a lot of infected in the airport. The offices were littered with dead CEDA employees, who were just wearing medical masks. They carefully made their way through the disgusting bodies all over the place, and got down to the lobby. Statues and structures were crumbling, and debris completely littered the floor. Quite a number of infected ran at them and made to swipe, and it took some quick reaction times from Francis to prevent any damage. "Come on!" he yelled, frantically pumping his shotgun in time. "We can't just sit on our asses here! Where's the god damned runway?"

Bill wildly looked around. He spotted a white van that had crashed into the front door of the lobby, blocking the entrance. He ran over to it, and started fiddling with the ignition.

"What the hell are you doing, Bill?" Zoey yelled while knocking back a Boomer. Bill picked up a large piece of debris, and set it on the gas pedal.

The van roared to life, and it slid out of the opening, causing debris to fall over the entrance anyway. The van drove all by itself forward, making Bill fall to the ground next to it, yelling. It sped off, and crashed into a metal gate, clearing the way for them.

"_What_?" Francis kept yelling as they ran forward. Bill suddenly pointed. "Through baggage!" he proclaimed, pointing at a small opening near the floor. "This should take us right out onto the runway!"

They carefully wormed their way in the hole, watching not to attract any of the zombies that were chasing them. The conveyor belts weren't moving, but they still provided easy platforms to climb their way through the narrow area. It appeared to have been used by fellow refugees, as graffiti on the wall suggested, "_GOD IS DEAD_".

"Oh no," Zoey mused, "the zombies killed _god_!"

Francis had a good laugh over that one. Bill suddenly spoke up, pointing towards the wall. "All of the exits are blocked," he mumbled, pointing at large sheets of metal that were draped over the exits. Louis peeked around a corner, and yelled, "I think this goes back into the airport area!"

They traversed through it, and found themselves at another large open indoors area. The skylight on this one was shattered as well, permitting small quantities of gray ash to drift down. There were a lot of zombies around. Their only way forward was blocked by long metal gates.

"Through here," Bill said, and walked through the metal airport security scanner that allowed them to move forward.

And a few moments later, they were sprinting towards the stationary escalator, a ear piercing beeping noise screaming behind them. "_Bull frickin' horseshit_!" Bill yelled as they ran, shooting at the zombies running towards them. They ascended the escalators, and had just one sheet of glass between them and the runway.

If you had to describe what they saw in one word, it would be destruction. Charred planes that had crash landed dotted the runway. A large crater with a smoking fighter jet sat in the middle of dozens of bodies. But all they really had was a glance, since there were several hundred zombies heading towards them in that instant.

They ran on, desperate to get down there. At the very end of the waiting area, sat a red door safe room. "Yes! Haha!" Louis whooped, clapping his hands. And then he tripped.

He skidded for several feet, bumping into a set of waiting chairs. The others were ahead of him, staring with complete and utter horror at him. He frowned, and turned to get a look at what exactly he tripped over.

A Witch crouched directly before him, growling menacingly, preparing to stand up. "Oh, shit. Shit! Shit shit _shit_! SHIT! _HELP_!" He backed up, and hit the row of chairs again, trapped.

"Oh, fuck! _Grab him_!" Zoey screamed, rushing to his aid. She and Bill hoisted him to his feet, and they all ran towards the safe room, the Witch shrieking and running after them with outstretched arms.

Screaming, Francis barred the safe room door in an attempt to stop the Witch from getting any closer. They waited with apprehension as the clawing and shrieking banged against the door, creating a real racket. After about a full minute or two, however, there was a quiet thumping noise, and the sobbing resumed.

"Jesus..." Francis murmured, still wary of the door. "We should get going," Louis whispered after a while, still in shock. Bill nodded, and opened the door out onto the runway.

It was a very broad expanse of concrete, with streaks of fire where planes had skidded in an attempt to land. Louis squinted at the horizon. "Look over there!"

A rather large plane was descending onto the runway. It looked like a small passenger jet. Louis started waving his arms as the craft landed.

A few seconds before it was supposed to touch down, however, one of its wings dipped down, sending the plane lopsided. The wing collided into the concrete in the distance, and the plane dipped down, getting closer and closer towards them. "Oh, fuck... get _down_!" Bill cried, jumping onto the runway a few feet below. They followed, just as the plane began skidding on the ground towards them, pitching precariously, and sending a shower of flames and sparks all over the concrete ahead. The fuel tank exploded, sending heat waves they could feel from a distance, and the roaring wreckage tore to a halt not fifty feet away from where they stood. The fire cascaded up from the debris, eating away at the hull of the jet. "Christ..." Bill muttered.

And then they heard a radio yelling. To their right, a large military four engine propeller plane stood, lights shining down from the front. It wasn't giant, but it was certainly large enough to accommodate several survivors. The yelling continued, crackling as if on a loudspeaker.

Bill sprinted towards a fallen soldier in front of a gasoline truck who had a walkie-talkie strapped to his belt. Bill pressed the button, and yelled, "Hello? Can anyone hear this?"

The voice rang back, pure and strong. "_Read you loud and clear, survivors_!" the voice boomed. "_I'm in that plane right next to ya! Now, if you wanna come with me, you're gonna have to pump the plane full of gas; I'd do it myself, but clearly you guys are more fit for the job_!"

Francis's jaw hung wide open. Bill wiped the sweat off his forehead, and spoke, "Alright, how do we do that?"

"_The hose is already hooked up to the contraption! Just let the lever on that gasoline truck loose, and it should start filling! Once we're full, I'll let you in and we can fly out of here_!"

Bill considered it. It could be another trick, but this was exactly what they needed, someone who knew how to fly a plane. There appeared to be enough room to take off, too. "Alright, we'll do it."

"_Fantastic_!" the voice rang back. "_Now, let her rip! It should only take about ten minutes_!"

Francis stepped forward, and carefully pulled down the yellow lever on the truck in front of them. It gurgled to life, and a faint liquid noise could be heard coming from the hose, which bellied out as the gas flowed to the plane. "_Okay_!" the radio fizzled at them. "_Now, arm yourselves! I think we're attractin' company..._"

True to his word, the gurgling apparently was louder than it seemed. Infected were running down the runway at them. A Gatling gun sat armed in front of the truck, secured by sandbags. It appeared the military had been here. Louis grabbed hold of it, cackling, and started ripping the incoming to shreds. "Yeah!" he whooped.

After a few moments of killing, Zoey called into the radio, "How's it coming?"

"_Uh_," the voice crackled, pausing. "_We're about an... eighth? Of the way there? Don't worry, you're doin' fine! We'll be outta here in... no time..._"

Suddenly, the ground beneath their feet began to shudder. A Tank threw a giant luggage cart out of the way in front of it, speeding directly towards them. Francis looked up. "Climb on the truck!" he called, already climbing the ladder on the back that took them up.

"This thing better not explode if that Tank hits it!" Zoey yelled in fright, shooting away at the monstrosity. It roared, and prepared to take a swing at the vehicle. "Hop off! This was a _stupid idea_!" Francis screamed, jumping down back onto the runway. The others followed, allowing the Tank to change its mind at the last moment.

"Split up!" Louis cried as the Tank followed. "_Wait_!" Bill yelled as the Tank proceeded to chase Louis, who was sprinting around alone. "God _damn_ it..."

After a few moments of chasing in which many rounds of ammunition were fired, the Tank finally collapsed, having taken up half of their ammo pile.

"_Halfway there_!" the radio called during the silence. The zombies continued to pour towards them, shrieking as they went.

Suddenly, Zoey screamed. "_Boomer_!" she yelled, just as it literally vomited all over Francis and her. "My _vest_!" he screamed, and shot at it. The resulting green explosion drenched Louis and Bill in slime as well.

Even more numbers ran towards them, thanks to their new fragrance. "This stuff doesn't come off!" Zoey yelled, frantically wiping away at the sludge. The zombies kept coming.

"_Only one fourth left to go_!" the guy said, now sounding more panicked. "Come on!" Bill cried, knocking back a zombie. "We can _do this_!"

The floor beneath them started to rumble again. "_Oh, shit..._" the radio suddenly said. It continued, "_Alright, that's enough! Three fourths is all we need! Get the fuck in!_"

The ramp at the very end of the plane opened up, and the four ran inside as fast as possible, the new Tank right behind them. The plane started up, its propellers whizzing wildly, and started moving forward, aligning in place for take-off.

"_Dammit_!" their pilot yelled. "_Make sure he doesn't get at us_!"

The back door slowly closed, the Tank now falling behind due to the plane's speeding up. It shuddered, and, almost like a miracle, they were off the ground, and heading north towards the forests of Allegheny.

* * *

NOTE: Yay! That's Dead Air. Sorry about this one taking so long, I haven't been having much time to write, but I promise you, there will be updates every week or so. So yeah, we've got some more stuff coming up! We're on the brink of the more exciting shit. Is that not exciting to you? It's pretty exciting to me. I finally get to write about stuff other than campaigns, like original plot and stuff. Anyway! Don't forget to PM me if you spot a grammatical or spelling error. And, please review, and favorite, and yaddah-yaddah-yaddah. It's kind of tiring to repeat it every chapter, so I'll just let you appreciate this story in any way you can.


	11. Blood Harvest

_No hope. No cure. No problem._

* * *

**Day 16. October 4, 2009. 11:09 P.M.**

Four survivors sat once again in a swaying, gray compartment. The bumpy black hills flew by below, and the steady hum of a plane engine continued to rumble through the air. Louis was busy eating out of a can of tomato soup. Bill appeared to be asleep, and snoring loudly. They'd been riding for hours in this giant, slow plane, apparently headed to the military base somewhere up in northern Pennsylvania. Fifteen minutes ago, their pilot had announced they would be there in two hours. The actual cockpit of the plane was sealed off to them, apparently to keep any infection from getting in with the pilot. Bill had nodded, explaining that the pilot would be much more susceptible to the infection than they were.

And so, they rode, finally off to rescue. Francis had joked that this plane would crash as well, resulting in a sharp jab from Zoey. Louis seemed confident that they were out of the mess. And then, the intercom rang out.

"_Uhhh..._" it mumbled, stuttering. Bill sat up, wide awake, and yelled, "What?"

"_Well... we're going to run out of fuel soon, to be... frank. Apparently three fourths wasn't enough for the trip. We can try to land on the-_"

"What the _hell_?" Francis suddenly cried. "You're saying we're gonna crash in the middle of _nowhere_?"

"_Don't be alarmed! I know how to land on the highway! If I can find one and line it up well, and there's minimal debris, and the road is straight enough, it shouldn't be too... oh..._"

"What is it?" Zoey said. Slowly, they heard the engine shut off. The plane began to dip.

"_...oh, fuck! Shit! Hold on to something!_" their pilot yelled as the plane glided towards the dark hills below. Louis frantically grabbed for the overhead bar, eyes wide with terror. Zoey did the same.

"_...oh, hold on! I see a field below I can land smoothly on! Just-_"

Suddenly, the aircraft jolted jarringly to the right, as a loud bang was heard on the left. "_Too low! TOO LOW! Oh, shit! OUR WING!_"

The plane began tilting slowly to the left, sending the survivors toppling on the floor. A loud, screaming noise was heard from the other engine as the field below seemed to fly right up to them. The floor bounced roughly, and the lights went out. A terrible skidding noise could be heard as the plane rolled over. There was a huge explosion behind them, ripping open the back of the plane. It skidded for a few more yards, and finally smashed into a rest against a squad of pine trees. Several more explosions popped after that, as smoke began flooding into the compartment. Bill coughed roughly as Francis muttered, "...god... _damn_ it all..."

"Where is everyone?" Bill mustered, squinting in the dark. Luckily, everyone was lifting their heads up, coughing from the smoke and rubbing their heads. Francis had a long bleeding cut on his head.

With the help of each other, they exited through the hole in the back. Thick, black smoke drifted up from the craft, and a bright orange fire issued from the remnants of one of the engines. The only other sounds in the field and forest around them was the swaying of trees and chirping of crickets.

"I _hate_ planes!" Francis declared with fury. Louis frowned thinking to himself. "Do you think the pilot is still alive?"

Zoey looked at Bill. "We should probably go check and see if he's okay," she said. She and Louis crept forward back into the craft, wielding flashlights. Bill and Francis followed, but farther behind. Louis tried the cockpit door, and found out with some degree of surprise that the crash landing had broken the lock. He opened it, and found the pilot sitting in the chair. Louis looked back at Zoey, who shrugged, and he nudged the guy's shoulder.

The man's head groggily lifted up, looking at them. "What... oh, _fuck_... what the hell _happened_?"

"Uhhh," Louis stuttered, glancing at Zoey. Zoey spoke up, stating, "We got into a plane crash. Remember?"

He rubbed at his head. "Oh, yeah, shit... god damn... where are we?"

Zoey looked around. "I'm not really sure," she admitted, staring at the field they were in. "All I know is we were heading to some military base? Up north?"

The pilot nodded, getting up from his chair slowly. "Yeah, ECHO Base. Fuck... how long was I _out_?"

"Just a few minutes," Louis responded. "We should probably get out of the plane. What's your name?"

The pilot began to speak, when he froze, staring at them. His eyes were wide open. "Oh, _shit_! Get the hell _out of here_!"

He shoved Zoey out, who stumbled into Louis. The door slammed, creaking back open slightly without a lock. Zoey glanced back at Bill, who was frowning peculiarly. "Uh, pilot? What's the matter? Is the plane going to explode or something?"

"Stay away from me!" he yelled at them. "You're _infected_!"

"_What_?" Zoey uttered incredulously. "No, no, we're fine! All of us have been on this plane for hours and we haven't turned! Besides, we've been exposed to the infection for weeks, and we haven't turned, so there can't... possibly..."

Zoey's eyes widened. She looked down at her own clothes, and at Louis's. There were large, dried brown blood stains, but not their own. "...oh..." she whispered, and began to step back. "Uh... we should probably leave this guy alone."

"Why?" Louis asked. Zoey lowered her tone down to a harsh whisper. "We've got the infection _all over us_! _We_ may be resistant to it or something, but... not _him_."

She then looked back at Bill, who motioned for them to retreat from the room. "Do you have a face mask in there, at least? A gas mask, maybe?" she called. There was no response. "Hello?"

Louis's eyes widened. "Zoey... let's go back. If this guy wants to get out later, he can, but... it might be too late already."

She stepped back, slowly. "No..."

"Zoey?" Francis yelled. Louis was already walking back. Her eyes began to water. "We _killed him_!"

The rest stared. "We could have left him _alone_! He would have woken up! But... we just had to give him the disease. God _damn_ it, _why_?"

Louis said, "Well, maybe he didn't get infected. We only walked in. I don't think the virus is airborne."

"Then why isn't he _responding_?" she cried, now in tears. And just like that, there was a thump on the door.

She stepped back slowly. Another thump was heard, this one louder. Bill pulled on her arm, and mumbled, "Let's get going, Zoey..."

And after a few more moments of staring, she followed.

**Day 17. October 5, 2009. 3:56 A.M.**

A high campsite rested above a steep ravine. Rocks jutted out all over it. Trees on the top swayed slowly, creating a mesmerizing swishing sound. The four survivors sat upon it, resting on sleeping bags, a campfire slowly flickering out in front of them.

"What a waste of two hundred dollars," Francis muttered, gazing at the smoldering ashes before them. Louis shrugged. "Not much use for them now, I guess."

"Yeah, I guess..." Francis mumbled, drawing his knees close to him. Zoey was staring up at the sky. "Look at all the stars!" she said, pointing up. It seemed like there were thousands of stars up in the sky. The milky way could clearly be seen, a long band of glowing white that shone through the treetops. "You could never see this many stars back in Philadelphia... where _are_ we?"

Bill looked up at the camp grounds sign next to their site. "I guess we're in the '_Allegheny National Forest_'. We're way out from civilization. There's a map, but I can't really think of anywhere to go."

Louis shrugged. "That guy mentioned something about an 'ECHO Base'. Other than that, I've got no clue. And didn't he say it was about two hours away, anyway?"

Zoey nodded. "I'm just so tired of running around all the time. We got away from civilization. Great. We don't have much food, but we can scavenge. Really, I'm just so tired of _trying_, you know?"

Francis nodded as well. "Man, I know the feeling. I remember I would get in trouble, and then hide away from the cops for a while. But then, that got, you know... _boring_. I would just come out, and say, 'Alright, guys, you _got me_. I was _kidding_ about being a cop. Now can you stop pointing your guns at me?' And that actually worked," he concluded with a cocky grin.

Louis rolled his eyes. "What did you actually _do_ for a living, Francis?" he asked, looking over at him. Francis shrugged. "I used to work for a shipping company called Hersch, but... I... _quit_?"

Zoey rolled her eyes. "He was fired for beating up someone. Told us before you came along, Louis."

Louis began to laugh. "Yeah, that _does_ sound like you, Francis!" Francis grimaced at that. "Well, it's more exciting than being a god damned... _lawyer_, or whatever you are."

Louis sat up, and put his hands on his hips. "Uh, I'm a Junior Systems _Analyst_ at Franklin-"

Francis had clapped his hand over Louis's mouth. "Don't wanna hear it."

Bill finally turned around, and asked them, "Are you guys ready to go?"

There was silence as the three stared at him. "What?" Zoey asked.

"It's time to go. We shouldn't wait around. Look at this."

He pointed at a printed out sign on the billboard, that said in stamped text, "_Please proceed to Daughtery Farm for evacuation._" It then lists an address right below it. Bill was grinning stupidly at them. Zoey blinked, and said, "Are we really going to do this again?"

Bill's smile faltered. "What do ya mean?"

"Well... we've done this countless times. We know the infection is here. Every other time the military has failed us. Why don't we just stay here?"

Bill crossed his arms stoutly. "No, we're not going to do that. We're going to go to that damn farm, and we're going to get rescued. It's just four miles from here."

Francis scratched the back of his head. "I dunno, Bill, we've _done this_. What're the odds that-"

"And we'll do it again, just as fine. I don't give a _shit_ about odds. We all know we can't stay out here forever. If rescue is here-" he pointed vigorously at the sign "-if the _military_ is here, then _that_ is our target. We're not going to just _live it out_ in the wild. You _know_ that. We're going, and that is final."

There was a long pause. Francis shrugged. "Alright. What do we gotta lose? It's just a few miles. At least we aren't in some god damn city."

And with that, they were trekking through the woods once again.

"Why does it always have to be so dark when we walk around like this?" Zoey mused, glancing up at the brilliant sky. Francis nodded. "I _know_!" he proclaimed, pointing his new shotgun at the clouds above. "It's like, we're always _asleep_ during the day, or tied up in the bottom of a _boat_ or something. I bet the sun feels nice. It would probably be easier, too."

Louis looked up as they walked. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Francis began, "vampires are allergic to sunlight, right? There'd probably be _way_ less-"

"Francis. They're _zombies_."

"Zoey, they're _vampires_. I saw one suck the blood _right out_ of my friend Dann-"

Bill held his hand up quickly. He cautiously stepped forward, and peered down. Before them was a huge, deep chasm, with a simple rope bridge spanning the length. The wind could be heard quietly whistling through it, increasing the suspense. Bill gingerly tested the bridge with his foot, finding that it still seemed quite sturdy. He was the first to go across, and waved the others over. "It's safe!" he called to them. "I bet this area has only been infected for a _week_!"

One by one, the four stepped across the bridge, and made it over safely. They continued navigating the trail, and arrived at a conveniently placed safe room inside a large metal building. Once everyone had entered, Louis shut the door securely shut. "Nice!" he said, reloading. "We didn't see a single zombie! Maybe this area isn't as infected as we thought!"

Zoey nodded slowly. "I hope these safe rooms are as common as before..."

Written on the wall, in big, black, bold writing, read the words "_FOLLOW THE TRACKS_". On the other wall, in smaller writing, was scribbled, "_Head north to Echo_".

Bill nodded slowly, looking at the wall. "Alright. I suppose we just gotta head north. That was easy."

And with that, the four survivors slowly open the opposite safe room door, and proceeded on.

They emerged into a large warehouse-type room, standing upon a high balcony overlooking the building. There were several infected down below, and one Smoker hanging out near a small door down below. Bill pointed at it, and mumbled, "We can get down this ladder..."

A gray metal ladder was beside them, allowing access the the floor below. One by one, they cautiously made their way down the tall structure, nodded, and proceeded to open fire on all of the zombies in the building.

"It's clear!" Francis hollered. They walked towards a metal door with a green exit sign above it.

"Alarm will sound... oh, god damn it..." Bill mumbled, pointing at the door. On it, was painted, "_Emergency Exit Only_". Below that, read, "_Alarm Will Sound_".

"Fuck _that_!" Francis yelled, and kicked down the door with his foot. As expected, a high pitched ringing noise sounded, and the four ran through.

"_Damn it_!" Bill kept shouting, as Francis called, "We've blown up a fucking _Howitzer Gun_ in the _middle of a town_! I think we can set off an alarm in the middle of the woods _just fine_ now!"

True to his word, only a few dozen zombies made their way towards them. The team continued on, and found themselves walking along some railroad tracks through a tunnel.

"We headin' north?" Louis asked, glancing around. There was debris everywhere, and up ahead it appeared a train had derailed.

Bill nodded. "Should be. There's an arrow on the wall over there that points this way. I suppose this would be the way to go."

It seemed reasonable enough, so they walked on, mindful of any fallen rubble. There were a few corpses in the tunnel, making the place stink to high heavens. Louis used his partially shredded tie to cover his nose as they climbed over the train wrecks.

"I hate trains..." Francis mumbled, climbing over an overturned tanker car. Zoey laughed, and said, "Yeah, Francis, I think we get it now. You hate _everything_."

"_No_!" he protested, taking care not to stumble over a corpse. "No, no, not _everything_. I just hate trains in _general_. And vampires. And helicopters... and planes... and doctors, and lawyers, and cops..."

Ahead, in the wall, sat another safe room. The tunnel ahead had collapsed in on itself, leaving the room the only option. "Wow!" Louis remarked, scratching his cheek as they entered. "I guess other people used this route, too!"

On this wall, read the words, "_GO TO ECCO_". Bill looked at it, and said, "Yeah, we're on the right track, for sure."

It wasn't much work to restock on ammo, and eat any food they might need for the energy. This was a process they'd been through at least a dozen times now. Once finished, they exited the safe room towards the other side once again, and walked through a long, winding tunnel.

"This some kind of bunker?" Zoey whispered, shining her flashlight all over the area. Bill shrugged. "I dunno. Probably not. Looks more like a service tunnel for the train tracks."

The tunnels continued on, eventually arriving at a door that let the brisk early October breeze flow in. The moon had already disappeared over the horizon, letting only the hazy milky way above light their path. Off in the distance, a light yellow began to glow against the clouds.

Louis pointed at the glow. "Do you think that's a city?"

Zoey shook her head quickly. "No, probably not. I don't think anyone has much electricity, and besides, Pittsburgh is the only city near here. I think it's almost morning."

Francis nodded vigorously. "Yeah! Now we finally get to feel the god damn _sun_!"

They walked on, and ended up at a small building. Inside, it led them to the tracks again, although now, they were on the other side of the debris. It was also the end of the tunnel, where the tracks ended up in the open air. Ahead, a tall rickety wood bridge rose above the tracks, creating a dark silhouette against the brightening clouds ahead.

"Keep following the tracks!" Louis yelled, running forward. There were a few zombies around, screaming at them like banshees as they passed. Ahead, several derailed train cars completely blocked their path forward.

"Damn it! There's no way _past this_!" Zoey cried hopelessly as the craned her head for a better look around it. Francis spun around desperately, and pointed.

"The bridge!" he called. "I bet we could knock it down!"

"What good could _that_ possibly do?" Bill screamed, unloading his rifled straight into an incoming Hunter. Francis looked around some more, eyes wide, and slammed his hand down on a bright yellow lever on the bottom of a train car.

"_GET OUT OF THE WAY_!" he screamed at Louis, who was right in front of the slowly moving carriage, which was now unhooked from the derailed cars and speeding faster and faster towards the bridge. Louis dived out of the way, narrowly avoiding disaster, when there was a tremendous crashing sound coming from down the tracks. The wooden bridge collapsed, creating what appeared to be a ramp up to the upper levels of rock.

"This way! _Let's go_!" Francis called, blasting his gun straight into a zombie that was approaching. He cautiously began ascending the newly created ramp, taking care not to wobble it too much. The others followed gingerly, and soon found themselves up at the top of the bluff. Ahead, in a wooden cabin, was yet another extremely convenient safe room. "Inside!" Bill yelled, and they ran in, securely locking the door behind them.

"I think we're going the right way!" Louis proclaimed optimistically. Zoey shrugged, and said, "I've gotta agree. There's no way there would be this many safe rooms in the country side like this. If we can get back to the tracks again, I think we'll almost be there. Wasn't it just, like, a few miles or something?"

Bill nodded. "Daughtery Farm, that's it. On the map, we were about four miles from the place. It ought to be around here someplace..."

The cabin wasn't very large, and only offered a few supplies for them. Outside, they heard a low growling noise being emitted through the cracks between wood.

"Yeah, I hear a Hunter, alright..."

Francis kicked down the next safe room door, and quickly brought his boot down on a crouching, hooded Hunter waiting right outside. It squealed, and slumped down onto the pine needle-covered ground. He smirked, and kicked it out of the way of the door. "It's safe!" he yelled at them. "We can keep going."

They walked on, up to a small barn. There wasn't anything particularly useful in the building. Outside, enclosed in a wooden pen, was several cow carcasses. Zoey clamped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide in shock.

Bill grimaced, wrinkling up his nose. "It... looks like they were all recently killed. Maybe... they were infected?"

Francis's eyes lit up in delight. "_Vampire cows_! Oh, man, that is _rad_... you think there are any that are alive?"

Zoey bopped him on the back of his head with her hand. "Francis! It's not funny, they were killed to stop spreading the infection, probably. It's _disgusting_. Bill, can we _please_ get going?"

Bill was staring at it, quickly snapped up, and said, "Yeah, yeah, I'm comin'."

The four stepped down a ledge, ending up in another small warehouse. A few guns littered the tables, but nothing special. A few infected loitered the room, which were quickly dispatched with the butt of Francis's automatic shotgun. Exiting the door, they found themselves right at the other side of the train tracks.

Louis whooped, and pointed. "Alright! We're almost there, I think!"

Walking along the tracks, they found significantly more zombies. The side of the tracks to their left was completely open, leading to a huge drop off, not unlike the one next to their camp site. A few buildings were on the side, like what looked like a train station and a small house, overlooking the cliff. Along the tracks, a train had derailed, causing the cars to become jumbled, jutting out over the railings.

Eventually, after following the rails for quite some time, they arrived at a drop off. The train tracks continued on a long metal bridge, but down below, was a huge ravine, larger than any they'd seen so far. On the other side were pine trees jutting up like broken glass in a shattered window. They cautiously walked along the metal structure, the wind howling through the gaps of metal. Off in the distance, on the other side, were searchlights shining up from the forest.

"I think that's _it_!" Zoey cried with happiness. "We're gonna _make it out of here_!"

After making their way across the creaking iron bridge, they found a safe room at the end of a stationary caboose car. Carefully entering, they were able to read the graffiti other survivors had written all over the walls. A few Expo markers and Sharpies littered the metal floor below.

One message wrote, "_Tim, I'm heading to Albany. If you can read this, don't follow me. Get yourself evacuated with the kids. -Allison_"

Another stated, "_the military is pulling out of sharpborgh_"

One written in red ink declared, "_I heard they have cell phone reception in ohio still!_"

And one more said, "_WERE IS THE MILITARY?_"

Bill looked at them, and said, "We keep going. The searchlights are just up ahead. I'm just hoping the military hasn't abandoned this place entirely yet..."

Louis shrugged. "We're way out in the wilderness! There's hardly any zombies around here. We'll get to them."

Francis was about to say something about that, but stopped himself at the last moment, sighing. After a few more moments of snacking and preparing, they decided to head out.

"Man, I'm _sleepy_..." Zoey mumbled, rubbing her eyes sleepily. In the east, the glow strengthened. A pink haze started being reflected from the clouds in the distance. Louis yawned, and murmured, "Don't worry, we'll be out of here pretty soon. Just think about it... an _actual_ safe point!"

Francis laughed, clearly not impeded by any length of hours without sleep, and declared, "Yeah, and literally fifteen minutes later the _bus_ or whatever is gonna crash into a ditch, or the helicopter is gonna land in a swamp in Louisiana, or-"

"Francis," Zoey snapped, irkingly. "_Shut up_. We have a really good chance here. Do you really want to just give up now?"

Francis began to say something, cast his eyes downward, and muttered, "No... not really. I'm just saying, y'know, be _realistic_... here..."

"All you're being is _pessimistic_, and we really don't need that," Zoey told him with a glare in her eyes. "If you want realism, look at the facts. We're literally _right next_ to an evacuation point in the middle of the woods, where no zombies can get to us. Not to mention, it's the _military_. Not some random people on a boat, or in a helicopter or plane. If this works, we're _in the loop_ again. We'll get _evacuated_."

Francis shrugged, and mumbled, "Sorry."

After a few more moments of preparation, in which nobody talked at all, Bill declared, somewhat hesitantly, "Alright, let's... just go ahead and get going. It wouldn't do us any good to sit around here any longer." With that, they proceeded on.

The tracks ended abruptly at another small collapsed tunnel, but it didn't really matter anymore; up a hill, to their left, must lead to the evacuation location. They climbed it, Bill with some difficulty, and looked on. In the distance, was a farmhouse with searchlights shining up from all over the sides. The only thing separating the survivors from safety was a large cornfield. A metal sign next to them read, "_Keep arms above head at all times or you will be SHOT ON SIGHT_". Francis grimaced at them, and asked Bill, "You think they're still here?"

Bill shrugged. "Probably. I would do what the sign says. Put your guns away, and hold your hands up. Come on."

They attached their guns to their straps, and held their hands up as they walked forward through the cornfield, Francis with some reluctance. They stepped forward, cautiously towards the house. The tall corn stalks were blocking their view, however, and it became difficult to navigate through the field.

Without warning, an entire flock of crows suddenly began squawking right in front of them, and flew up from their perch down on the ground. The din attracted the attention of a few zombies wandering about in the field.

"_Damn it_!" Francis yelled as they ran. "Can we use our guns _now_?"

"Come on!" Bill called. "The house is _right there_! Slow down, let's not alarm them!"

They slowed to a jog, hands in the air in front of the house. The zombies behind had already forgotten them, and stumbled towards a parked tractor. The lights were on inside, but no silhouettes outlined them. "Um. Hello?" Zoey asked. There was no response.

"Let's have a look inside..." Louis muttered, biting his bottom lip. Cautiously, so as not to cause alarm, they entered, looking around.

"What's that sound?" Zoey said suddenly, and ran towards a radio on a dinner table in the kitchen. The other three followed, looking at the device. It declared, apparently on a loop, "_This is an emergency broadcast from the U.S. Military, please respond_," over and over again. Bill approached it, apprehension in his eyes, and spoke into the transmitter, "Hello? We're four survivors here!"

There was a sudden pause in the audio clip, and then it blared out, "_Jesus christ, Lieutenant! We got survivors out there!_"

Zoey gasped, and clapped her hands together. Bill yelled into the microphone, "Yes, _yes_! We're out in the Daughtery Farm evacuation site! Is there any way you can pick us up?"

There was a pause, lasting around three seconds. It then declared, "_We read you loud and clear, survivors. We are prepping an extraction team. Prepare yourselves and radio back when ready._"

Bill nodded slowly, disbelief in his eyes and a wide smile on his lips. Zoey hugged Louis, who then whooped. "We're getting _out of here!_"

Francis chuckled, stroking his goatee. "I'd never have thought it. Looks like this plan might _actually work_."

"Well?" Louis asked, hands waving in the air like a madman. "Radio them back! We can't be abandoned out here!"

"Oh! Yeah..." Bill realized with a start, and leaned back over the equipment. "Uh, we're ready now, if you are! How long 'til you arrive?"

There was a long pause. "_Alright, we're heading out now! We'll probably be there in about... fifteen minutes! Hold out until we get there! This is Rock, out_."

"Rock out too, brother!" Francis yelled, pumping his fist in delight. There was a brief silence, interrupted only by a small chirping from a cricket. Bill sighed. "Well, we might as well get-"

There was a huge roar of infected, all simultaneously from the forest around the edges of the farm. "Oh, god _DAMN it_! What did we do wrong that time, huh?" Francis screamed. "Yes!" Zoey cried, with a hint of irony in her voice. "_Yes_, Francis! Get _angry_ at the zombies!"

A giant wave of zombies flooded over the hills in the distance, running through the cornfield towards them. "Oh, fuck! Guys! Let's go upstairs!" Louis screamed. They scrambled up the flight of stairs. "Shit!" Zoey said, running her hands through her pony-tailed hair. "What do we _do_?"

"_Shoot_, damn it!" Bill cried, blasting his assault rifle away at a stair-ascending zombie's chest. It fell over backwards, bowling into the others, giving time for the survivors to reload and start firing. "Die, motherfuckers!" Francis screamed at them. Three survivors backed up into the parent's room, as a stand.

Francis reached into his pocket, and withdrew a gray tube. "Ha hahh! Time ta play fetch, ya friggin' dumbasses! Throwin' a pipe!"

He tossed the pipe bomb back into the hallway, where it landed with a muffled thump. "God damn it."

Zoey laughed as she shot away with her pistols, and said, "Nice one, Francis. Maybe throw the bomb out the _window_ next time."

Francis shrugged, and pumped his shotgun. "Zoey, you might not watch a lot of baseball... but it ain't good for a man's pitchin' arm when a zombie's hangin' off it by its god damn _teeth_."

"Damn it!" Louis cried, and kicked a zombie in the crotch. "Now they're all coming up _here_!"

"Yeah, I know, Louis," Francis yelled, punching a Boomer away from him. "Tell ya what, next time I'll throw it up your ass. Then you can just clench and- _agh_!"

Francis fell over, a zombie strangling his throat. A quick pull of the trigger saved him, but he muttered, "...hate... zombies... _so much_..."

There was a huge, searing explosion from the hallway, sending wallpaper, wood, and bodies everywhere. Zoey leaned out the window, and called, "Well it's about fucking time... _guys_! Rescue's here! Army's _here_, guys! Let's get _moving_!"

A mechanized military truck rattled past her, coming to a stop in the driveway. Francis struggled with a zombie, and screamed, "I'm comin', I'm comin'! C'mere, ugly..."

A pistol shot blasted through the infected's head, sending it sprawling to the floor.

Zoey leaned in the window, and yelled, "Seriously, guys, let's move! Where's Bill?"

"White haired old mummy? Smokes a lot, hates stairs?" Francis asked, knocking back another zombie.

"Francis, where is he?"

"By the stairs."

"Is he _okay_?"

"I _look_ like a staircase to you? How the hell am _I_ supposed to know?"

Zoey ran into the hallway, muttering, "Oh, for christ's sake... guard the room! We'll leave through the hole. I'll be right back!"

"Think we should go with her, man?" Louis asked, shooting away with Francis. "Maybe Bill's in trouble."

"_Bill_?" Francis asked with disbelief. "_Nah_. He's been in one of his _Vietnammy moods_ all night. Two things I learned about Bill these last few weeks... don't make fun of his old guy goat beard... and _never_ interrupt him when he's _workin'_."

Bill was standing at the base of the stairs, blasting away at the incoming infected. He swung his assault rifle into a zombie's skull, sending it to the floor. Zoey appeared at the top of the stairs, and called, "Bill? Rescue's here! _Bill_?"

He ignored her, kicking the zombies away. She ran down, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Bill! We've got to go upstairs, man! Rescue's here!"

Bill turned to her, and muttered, "I heard you the _first time_, kid. I just wasn't finished." They began to walk up the stairs together, and Bill said, with a chuckle, "Heh. I don't suppose there's any way we could leave without-"

Zoey interrupted him with a laugh. "No, Francis knows it's here." Bill nodded, reloading his gun, and said with a slightly sarcastic sigh, "Ahhhh, _alright_."

Upstairs, Louis guarded Francis with a shotgun, and yelled, "Francis, when you gonna stop punching that thing in the head, man?" He turned to Louis, and declared, "Dunno. Soon as it gets boring." He concluded with several more punches to the dead zombie, and muttered, "Nope. Still fun."

Bill appeared in the room, and yelled, "Let's move! I leave you ladies for _five god damn minutes_ and you forget how to run to a rescue vehicle! Zoey, you take point. I'll cover the..."

There was an ominous rumble from downstairs, and Bill muttered, "Ah, fer christ's sakes..."

A Tank exploded into the room, roaring in rage. "_Tank_!" Bill screamed, holding a molotov cocktail in his hand, ready to be thrown. "Bill!" Zoey screamed, looking at the new monstrosity.

Bill started shooting away at it with his rifle. "Don't worry about me, kid! Fall back to the roof!"

He lit the molotov with his cigarette, as Zoey ran out with Louis and Francis, and muttered, "I swear to god I musta killed _fifty_ of you sons of bitches by now... you'd think _one_ of you'd have the common god damn _courtesy_ to go down _easy_."

He threw the molotov cocktail at its face, causing the flames to explode all of the the creature. It roared in agony, and swiped towards Bill.

Louis emerged quickly, and tossed a large white cylinder at the monster, crying, "Throwin' propane!"

"Got it!" Bill yelled, and shot the can. It exploded on the Tank, leaving all four survivors to simultaneously shoot at it until it knelt over, dead. With a sigh, Louis said, with anger in his voice, "Alright. Now can we all get the _hell_ out of this farmhouse?"

They jumped off the roof, straight towards the waiting military truck. Zoey covered them as they ran in. "Move! _Move_!" Bill yelled, inside the small compartment. "Francis, hurry _up_!" Zoey called.

He was lagging behind, flipping off a Smoker in a tree. "Hold on, I gotta give this zombie _the finger_."

Suddenly, the Smoker's long tongue shot out, gripping onto his foot tightly. He was ripped off his feet. "_Agghh! Shit!_"

Louis grabbed onto his hands, with Bill and Zoey reinforcing Louis. "I got you!"

"Don't let _go_, dammit!" Francis commanded, the Smoker pulling tighter. "I ain't lettin' go, man!" Louis called back.

"I take _alla_ that nasty crap I said about ya!"

"Hold on. You been sayin' _nasty crap_ about me?"

"_DON'T LET GO DON'T LET GO DAMN IT DON'T LET GO_!" Francis screamed.

Zoey emerged with a sniper rifle, and aimed it at the Smoker perched above. "Don't worry, Louis! I'm on it! Alllmost..."

The gun cracked, smoker trailing out the tip. "_Gotcha_, freakshow." The limp body fell from the tree limbs, and Francis was able to pull himself to his feet and into the truck. The door slammed shut, and the vehicle cranked up, driving through the hordes of zombies. It drove along the road, and smashed through the barrier, straight into the bright yellow sun rising above the treetops in the distance.

* * *

NOTES: Yay! Wow, that was a long time. I wrote on this chapter for literally three hours straight. Was it worth it? Please check for grammar errors, since I was rushing to get it done on a Friday. How do you like it? After this chapter, we will have a ton of interludes, absolutely jam packed with exclusive content and stuff. And by exclusive content, be prepared to see an entire chapter based on the Sacrifice comic. And by based on I mean almost copied from. Hey! I'm trying to keep it canon. And, I don't actually claim to own the Sacrifice comic; everything in the next few chapters is pretty much owned by Valve. Don't worry, after Millhaven, there will be the completely new story. And the new survivors! Keep checking for updates!


	12. On Our Own

_We are all so much together, but we are all dying of loneliness.**  
**_

_~ Albert Schweitzer_

* * *

**Day 17. October 5, 2009. 5:23 A.M.**

A red haired, muscular man wearing a military officer uniform stood in a control room, looking down at a map. A black haired man standing across from him spoke quickly.

"...and when that _happens_, Sergeant Downey," the man spoke, looking up, "_If_ that happens, I'll want to know who I can _trust_. You understand me, son?"

The red haired man nodded slowly, finger on his chin, and muttered, "Yes sir, Lieutenant Mora."

The black haired, older man threw his hands up, and proclaimed, "I'm not saying it _will_, mind. I'm just looking at the facts. We have not heard from command in _six days_. That is a _fact_. We have not heard from any survivors in _ten_. And _that_ is a fact." He chuckled, and put his hands in his pocket, saying, "Even those bleeding hearts at _CEDA_ stopped calling to lecture us on how to treat the prisoners. Not that I am complaining about that."

Sergeant Downey frowned, his eyebrows contracting. "You think command's abandoned us, sir."

Lieutenant Mora put his hands on the map below, and said, "No I do not. What I _think_, Sergeant, is if command _could_ have called, they would have called. I think it is safe to assume we are _on our own_. And I think Everly is out of his _god damn mind_ keeping us here."

Mora stood up, and began lighting a cigarette. "One bad gas mask." He turned around to Downey, and said, "That is all it will take to put us in the ground."

Downey chuckled, and said, "Far as I'm concerned, we _oughta_ put 'em on the _frontlines_. Let _them_ fight these freaks."

Mora frowned deeply. "Let them _go_, is what you're saying. Arm them. So they can _escape_. Kill _more_ innocent people." He shook his head, and pounded his fist on the table. "That is _unacceptable_ to me. This outpost can no longer afford to treat these prisoners as fellow citizens. Their very _existence_ is an act of aggression. We are at war for the _continued god damn survival_ of the human race. And they are on the _wrong side_ of that war. If it was up to me, I'd destroy every last one of them."

Suddenly, the radio on the table blared out, "_Jesus christ, Lieutenant! We got survivors out there!_"

Mora ran up to the radio operator, who was fiddling with the controls. "Tango Mikes?" he asked. The operator didn't look up, and said, "Gotta be. They'd've been out there for... _jesus_. Two weeks now."

Mora nodded slowly. "Tell ECHO base we'll take the run." The operator nodded, pressed a button, and declared, "We read you loud and clear, survivors. We are prepping an extraction team. Prepare yourselves and radio back when ready."

The radio fizzled for a second, and went out. "More survivors. Lieutenant..." Downey said, scratching the back of his head. "What if Everly - _hell_. What if it _is_ getting better out-"

Mora cut him off. "Get me a vehicle ready," he said. "I'm driving out to the farmhouse extraction point myself."

"Yes sir," Downey said, standing up.

"We've been operating in the dark too long. Time we found out exactly _what's_ going on out there."

* * *

NOTE: Short chapter, yep. But it is setting the stage for the end of the first Left 4 Dead. Am I allowed to say that? Can I assume most of you guys already know the Left 4 Dead story? I'm still keeping a lot of things in the dark, though, for those of you not completely familiar with the plot. I don't claim to own any of the Left 4 Dead Sacrifice comic storyline, but that's going to play a major role in the plot of the next chapter, as it has with these previous two. Anyway, this starts the interludes. After this, we'll have a couple more. And after that, we'll have more interludes.

And after that?

More interludes.


	13. Millhaven

_Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light._**  
**

_~ Helen Keller_

* * *

**Day 17. October 5, 2009. 5:34 A.M.**

"Oh hell _yes_, that is how that's _done_!"

Louis whooped in the back of a speeding military truck. The road bumped along precariously, and the other three survivors squatted on the small seats. There was a large coating of blood on Bill's back, but it wasn't from him.

"No more fat puking zombies, no more big-ass _car-chuckin_' zombies... no more creepy snow white _cryin' bitches_... just a whole mess a' relaxation in the safe zone, baby! Ha-_hahhh_!"

Louis sat back, hands resting behind his head, as Francis muttered, "Calm down. I'll believe it when I see it."

The black business man sitting in front of him threw his arms forward and declared, "What the hell kinda attitude is _that_, man? Francis, we're in an _armored personnel carrier_. Driven by the _military_. Being taken to a _safe zone_. Can I _finally_ get you to admit everything's gonna be _just fine_?"

Francis sat up, and said, with a crinkle in his eyebrows, "Louis, I hate to be the one to break this to ya, but we been heading to the safe zone _four times_ now. Helicopter: _crashed_. Plane: _crashed_. Boat: we were robbed and _left for dead_. Trust me... something'll go wrong and we'll all be _dead_."

Suddenly, through the small opening in the wall ahead of them, a muffled voice said, "Rock, this is Rescue 9. We've recovered four Tango Mikes. Please advise."

There was small radio chatter, stating, "_Rescue 9, bypass ECHO and return to Millhaven._" The gas masked soldier replied, "Rock, copy that."

Louis leaned forward towards the window, and asked, "Hello?"

A gas masked face peered in, looking at him. Louis wiped his forehead and stammered, "Hey, uh... man, I just wanna thank you for savin' all our asses back there. We headin' to the safe z-"

The small opening was suddenly shut with a gloved hand. Francis leaned back, stretching, and declared, "_See_? What'd I tell ya? We're friggin' doomed."

Louis leaned forward, and put his head in his hands. "Nice, Francis. That's a _real_ positive attitude."

"Oh, _come on_. You can't _really_ be as friggin' _oblivious_ as you let on, can ya?"

"Well, maybe _I'd_ rather focus on staying alive, instead of always _complaining_ how we're about to _die_!"

"Guys..." Zoey mumbled, leaning forward. "We _are_ always about to die," Francis snapped back.

"Exactly. _Francis_! And we're still _alive_!"

"Sure. And we're still all about to die. Face _facts_, man. We're livin' through a _zombie apocalypse_. That's a shit sandwich no matter how ya chew it. Nothin's gettin' better. Everthing's gettin' worse, _all the time_. Just _once_ I'd like to hear you admit it. Nothin's gonna be okay ever again."

**Day 17. October 5, 2009. 7:28 A.M.**

A gas masked soldier rested his hands over a steering wheel, eyes intent on the road. Ahead, a lit up fort approached. Suddenly, words were blaring into his earpiece.

"_Rescue 9, what's your status?_"

He pressed onto his ear, and replied, "Haven, we have four Tango Mikes for the doc. This is Captain Mora. Is the Major there?"

"_Rescue 9, negative._"

"Haven, please advise the Major that I need to debrief him _directly_."

"_Rescue 9, copy that. You know he's gonna ask, what'd you see?_"

"Haven, you would not believe it. I _saw_ it and I _can't_ believe it."

**Day 17. October 5, 2009. 7:36 A.M.**

The survivors were asleep, having dozed off in the hours of travel. The van had slowly pulled to a stop, and the back door creaked open slowly, letting in a bright glare of sunlight. They each painfully awoke in the light, and faced three gas masked, armed soldiers.

One of them said sharply, "Put your weapons on the floor of the vehicle. _Now_."

Francis leaned forward, and slowly said, "_Hollld on_. I know how this goes. You're gonna _cavity_ search us, ain't ya?"

A soldier cocked his rifle and declared, "Put your weapons down. This is your _last warning_."

Slowly, the survivors laid their weapons on the floor of the vehicle, and walked out with their hands up. As he stepped down, Francis said, "Alright, alright... hey, you should cavity search Bill. He looks pretty suspicious."

"Francis..." Bill warned, casting a glare upon him.

Suddenly, Francis ran his hands through his hair, and said, "Wait, I got it. Maybe you three wanna cavity search _each other_."

Without warning, a soldier threw the butt of his rifle into Francis's chin. Francis collapsed down onto the floor, as another soldier muttered, "Bring your smart ass friend. Anybody makes a break for it, that body gets _shot_. Welcome to Millhaven."

They walked forward, guarded by the soldiers. Francis was being supported by Louis and Zoey. Zoey leaned towards the first soldier, and said, "Um. Hi. I'm not a smart ass."

The mask glanced at her, and said, slightly muffled, "Good to hear, ma'am."

"Where _are_ we? I thought we were being taken to ECHO safe zone."

"Negative, ma'am."

Zoey nodded slowly, and said, "Right. Can you _at least_ tell us where you're taking us?"

"Testing."

She glanced back at Bill and Louis. "Oh-kay. And if we _pass_ the test?"

They walked past a large, burning pit with dozens of bodies in it. A dump truck dumped out dozens more corpses into the pile. Zoey's eyes widened as she said, "Actually, you know what, nevermind. I think I get the idea."

**Day 19. October 7, 2009. 8:50 P.M.**

Millhaven. Two days later.

Louis and Francis sat in a small, dark room. Francis was asleep on the metal bed, snoring loudly. A few moments later, he rolled over and off the bed, onto the sterile tile floors. Louis stared as he landed with a loud thump on the ground.

"Damn it..." Francis slurred, rubbing his head. "..._hate_ falling." He looked around, and mumbled, "...would'a thought we'd be outta here by now."

Louis shrugged, leaning on the concrete wall. "Wherever we are, it sure ain't Camp ECHO."

"Zoey and Bill?"

Louis closed his eyes and muttered, "'With the doctor.' That's all they'll ever tell me."

Francis crossed his arms, and stood up. "So. I was _right_. We're screwed."

"Well, now, I wouldn't say..."

"Yeah, I know _you_ wouldn't say. That's why _I'm_ saying it."

"_And_ dreaming about it. You've been mumbling '_I told you so Louis_' for an _hour_ now."

"Heh. Yeah. It was a good dream."

"Then you started yelling about falling."

"Oh, that. We were both falling while I was tellin' you off."

Louis turned around and rubbed his eyes. "Francis..."

"I was pretty brave about it. _You_ were really scared, though."

"Francis. Man, I think we are in a _lot_ of trouble here."

Francis looked at the floor, and curled his fingers into a fist. "Alright, lemme handle this," he decided, and began to walk towards the glassed door.

"Um. Wait. What?"

"Follow my lead. I got a _plan_."

Louis stood up quickly, and held his hand out. "No. Francis. _No_. Let's _talk_ about-"

The two gas masked guards outside their door, holding assault rifles, were mildly startled to see Francis start inaudibly pounding on the soundproof windows. One of the guards was quite short, less than five feet tall. The other was slightly taller than Francis himself.

"Does he know we can't hear him?" the tall soldier asked.

"I'm guessing not."

Francis, on the inside, was yelling, "This '_good cop, tiny child-sized cop_' crap won't work on _me_. Because I _am_ a cop! Ha_ha_! Louis! I think it's _working_!" He then turned his attention back to the gas masked soldiers in front of him and yelled, "Look at your little _tangerine-sized head_! Where do you even get Army costumes that _small_?"

The short soldier on the other side looked at the soundless yelling Francis on the other side and said, "Hold on, I'll put on the two-way."

A button was pressed, and Francis's blaring voice came out the other side, "-because you're _short_!"

The short soldier stared at him. "You're trying to get me angry so we'll come in there, and you can overpower us and escape, aren't you?"

Francis backed away, and said, "What? _No_. Okay, fine, _yes_. So what?"

The short soldier turned and faced away from the door again, and said, "Just a hunch, sir. And yes, I'm a little short. All the women in my family are."

Francis stared and the floor and mumbled, "Ohhh. You're a..."

"Soldier. Yes sir. Let me help you out here. You're in a hermetically sealed sterile room with an independent ventilation system. The _only_ way we're coming in there is if you are _dead_ or _on fire_. The doctor's _with your friends_. He'll be here _in a minute_. Now _sit down_ and _stay quiet_. _Sir_."

Francis sat back down, as Louis said, "_That_ was your plan."

"That was the _first_ part of my plan."

Louis glared at Francis and said, "Yeah, let's _recap_ some of your plans so far. 'Go help that crying girl, Louis. She looks sad.' 'Let's find the army. They'll know what to do.' 'We're locked in a tiny room. I'll piss off the guys with guns so they'll shoot Louis.'"

"All good plans. What's yer point?"

Suddenly, the tall, male soldier said, "Hey! Come here a second."

"Me?" Francis called back.

"No. The smart one."

Francis looked up and said, "I still think he means me."

"Uh _huh_," Louis said, standing up. "Let me go check it out anyway."

"Ten bucks says he just wants to _shoot ya_."

Louis walked towards the door and muttered, "Hope not. I coulda stayed _sitting_ for that. Yeah? What do you want?"

"Jeff, what the hell?" the female soldier whispered quietly. The tall one waved her down, and muttered, "I need to know this."

The tall soldier asked Louis, "You've been out there for _two weeks_, right?"

"That's not what it felt like. But yeah."

"Have the Whiskey Deltas been... _changing_?"

"Whiskey _Deltas_?"

"Walking Dead. Are they... you know, mutating?"

"Are you _kidding_? Just how long you guys been _cooped up here_?"

The female soldier sighed and said, "So they aren't."

Louis held his hands out incredulously and said, "Wait a minute. You guys've never seen a _Boomer_?"

"A '_Boomer_'." the short soldier repeated slowly, expression covered by the mask.

Louis nodded and said, "Big fat ass zombies that _barf on you_."

Jeff, the taller soldier, shook his head, and said, "Get the hell outta here."

"Oh, I ain't even got to the _screwed up part_ yet. See, the barf attracts _other_ zombies. It's like... I dunno, _catnip_ or something."

"_Jesus_."

"But they're not even the worst ones. There's this thing called a _Hunter_. They'll leap a hundred feet off a building, right on top of you. Rip your guts out with their claws."

"Holy _shit_..." the female soldier whispered.

"Then you got the Tanks."

"The zombies have _tanks_?"

"Don't need 'em. These things're _thirty feet tall_. Arms like _tree trunks_. They'll pick up a _car_ just to _beat you to death with it_."

Suddenly Francis popped up right behind Louis and proclaimed, "Also, _vampires._ Right, buddy? Oh, man, are they the _worst_."

"Francis..."

"Turnin' into _bats_. Livin' in _castles_."

"Francis. For the _last time_. There are _no_ vampires."

"We saw 'em when you were gone. You missed 'em."

"When was I gone?"

"That, uh... you know, that time. Shut up."

The tall soldier suddenly piped up, and asked, "Lieutenant Mora was telling us about... something called a Smoker?"

The short soldier looked up again and asked, "Yeah, what's that one do?"

**Day 18. October 6, 2009. 1:28 P.M.**

Millhaven. The previous day.

"'_...captures victims with its long, rope-like tongue._' Lieutenant Mora, your gift for fiction _amazes_ me," a gruff Major said, sitting in an office. The sunlight streamed in the window, creating long, thin shadows over the figure holding the file of papers. He spoke, "It goes on. _Giant_ Whiskey Deltas. _Exploding_ Whiskey Deltas. I'm especially fond of this next one; '_Whiskey Deltas capable of jumping to heights of thirty feet or more.'_ The walls of this compound are _twenty feet_, Lieutenant Mora. If I didn't know any better, I would say your report was _tailor-made_ to foster dissension in my ranks."

Lietenant Mora stepped forward and muttered, "I drove out to the farmhouse myself, sir. This is what I saw."

Major Everly growled, and said, "I'll just bet you did. We have our orders, Lieutenant Mora, whether you like them or not. Search and rescue. Sit tight and _wait_."

Mora straightened up, and said, "Major Everly. _Sir_. With all due respect, this base is _no longer secure_. ECHO Base to the north is equipped for a sustained assault. _We_, sir, are _not_. We should cut the carriers loose and-"

Everly frowned deeply, and said, "Abandon the _survivors_ under our care, you mean. Lieutenant, I am aware of your views on '_carriers_'. You would be _amazed_ at how _sick_ I am of hearing them. Let me be clear. There is _still_ a chain of command. I _still_ have a job to do. And I _intend_ to get that job _done_. You writing _ghost stories_ about zombies breaking barricades and jumping over _god damn buildings_ does _not_ help me! From now on, let me do _my_ job. _You_ do yours. We on the same page, son?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. This is the _last_ time I want to hear about this. _Dismissed_."

Lieutenant Mora stormed out of the office with a partner. "'Chain of command'," he fumed. "We haven't heard from command in _nine days_. This is a sick joke. We are _on our own_ out here. Retreating from this base is not a defeat. Losing men defending it _is_."

His partner asked, "What should we do, sir?"

"Round up Pena, Brooks and Davis. My quarters. 1400. I have one duty: to the men who've put their lives in my care. I am not going to sacrifice my platoon. Not for Everly. Not for carriers."

**Day 19. October 7, 2009. 9:03 P.M.**

"Spit, please."

"You're _kidding_."

Zoey and Bill stood in a small room much like Francis's and Louis's. A male doctor wearing just a small white ventilation mask held out a small, sterile white disk in front of Zoey. A fully gas masked soldier carrying an assault rifle asked, "She givin' you trouble, Doc?"

"We're _fine_, Rivera," the doctor said. "Miss... _please_."

Zoey crossed her arms and said, "For the _last time_, I am _not infected_. We walked, _on foot_, out of _Philadelphia_, and _believe me_, we saw _every zombie_ along the way. I've been bitten. Scratched. Bled on. _Puked on_. I'm fine. _We're_ fine. We're _resistant_, doctor. We just want to get to the safe zone. Okay?"

The soldier suddenly whipped around, and said, "Alright, enough. You. Spit in the dish."

Zoey looked at him with surprise, and said, "Dude. _Seriously_? You're gonna _shoot me_ if I don't-"

"_Spit in the dish_!"

Hesitantly, she spat into the small white dish. The doctor pulled it away as she said, "There. Is America _safe now_?" Can we go to ECHO Base?"

"_Almost_," the blonde doctor said slowly, scratching the back of his head. "I - I need to inspect one of the wounds you mentioned."

Zoey looked at the doctor, and said, "Jesus christ, what _is_ this? Are we _dying_ or something?"

The soldier pointed his rifle at Zoey again and ordered, "Show him your wound."

She held her hands up, and said, "Yeah, no. Alright? _No_. I am officially _sick_ of you _and_ your doctor spit-jar _yelling at us_ and not telling us _anything_. We just want to-"

The soldier backed her into a wall with the gun, and demanded, "Show him your wound!"

"Hey! What the _hell_, man?"

He pulled down her sleeve, unveiling a small row of bite marks. "There," he said in between pants.

"Take your hands off her," Bill suddenly declared, right behind the soldier.

The soldier turned around slowly. "Huh. Back it up, old man. You're not gonna be the hero here."

"That's right," he slowly said. "Just the _distraction_."

Suddenly, Zoey whipped the gun up and smashed it into the soldier's face. He came crashing to the floor, the gas mask clattering off his face onto the tiles. She drew the rifle on him, and yelled, "Alright, _enough bullshit_! Where are we? Why are you keeping us here? _Talk_!"

"don't - _ah-huhh_ - don't breathe on me - don't bleed on me _please_ jesus, don't - _don't touch me_"

Zoey let the rifle clatter the the floor. "I don't... I only hit him."

The doctor looked out the door, and said, "You might have killed him. Rivera's down!"

Another soldier suddenly burst into the room, yelling, "_Drop your weapons_! We-"

The doctor held his hands up, yelling, "We're fine, we're fine! Get him _out of here_!"

The blonde male doctor then turned to Zoey and Bill, and said, "Alright. Okay. So... you're carriers. Both of you. You don't show any _symptoms_ of the virus. But you're still _infected_. I'm afraid you've been transmitting it _all over_ Philadelphia."

Zoey stared at him. "Oh my god. We have the virus _inside us_?" she whispered.

"So _that's_ what this is about," Bill said slowly. "You didn't rescue us. You're _herding us all up_."

"Yes," the doctor said, eyes narrowing. "And before you get indignant, I'd remind you the army had _other_ options. _This_ was the humane one."

Zoey stepped forward. "But... you're a doctor," she argued. "Have you been... is there a..."

"_Cure_?" he asked, sighing. "We're trying. This virus defies _anything_ we've ever seen. Sometimes it's airborne. Sometimes it's not. It mutates _daily_. We're trying to cure it and we can't even pin it down. As for carriers... all we know so far is the carrier gene runs on the father's side. You and your dad here..."

Zoey gasped, staring forward. "He... he's not my father."

Tears started to form in her eyes as she realized what she'd done to her father two weeks ago. Her father, who'd been completely immune to the infection the entire time. Her father, the one she'd shot to save herself.

She started sobbing, as Bill put his hand on his shoulder. The doctor watched sadly, and pulled off his small face mask. "They haven't killed you yet because of me," he told them, looking at the floor with his hands in his pockets. "They haven't killed _me_ yet because they want their cure. It hasn't occurred to them yet that there _might not be one_. That _we_ might be the only future they've got. Carriers."

He looked at them again. "I... I want you to help me escape. It's already not safe here. Some of the soldiers... they'll keep us alive as long as they think I can stop this. When they figure out I can't... they're going to put us against a wall and _shoot us_."

Suddenly, a siren began to wail over the intercom above their heads, piercing the quiet surrounding the fort. "Damn it," the doctor said. "We might be too late. Mora. Mora's coming."

Zoey pointed at the doctor, shrieking, "You're worried about _soldiers_ coming to kill us?"

"Infected are attracted to _noise_, doc," Bill said, worriedly. Zoey continued, "Whatever dumb ass is in charge here, he just called in every zombie in a _hundred mile radius_. Doctor, we need to get _out of here. Now_. And we're going to need guns."

**Day 19. October 7, 2009. 9:08 P.M.**

Major Everly was just sitting at his desk, reading a file, when he heard the siren. "What in the _hell_?" he yelled, standing up quickly as three soldiers came in. One of them didn't have his gas mask on. Lieutenant Mora.

"_You_," Everly spat, staring at Mora. "Do you have _any idea_ what you've _done_?"

The alarm continued, ringing into the early night. "I've sounded the call for evacuation, Major," Mora said, his gun trained on Major Everly. "You are relieved of command."

**Day 19. October 7, 2009. 9:07 P.M.**

Louis sat on a metal bed, head in his hands. "So we've been infecting people this _whole time_?" he yelled. The room was quiet. "Jesus, that pilot... _we_ caused the helicopter crash..."

Francis waved him down, still talking to the soldiers. "Ahh, we don't know that. That news chopper guy'd been bit. And what about those boat people? Their marriage was in trouble, sure. But otherwise they seemed fine."

Louis stared off into space. "My job. I can never go back to my job. Shit, they're never gonna let us back to _anything_! This is it, Francis. You're the _only_ person I can be with without killin' 'em."

Francis snorted. "Great. Now we're both sad." Suddenly, an ear-piercing alarm rang through the air. "What the-?"

The siren continued as Francis yelled at the two same soldiers guarding them. "Haha! Yeah! You hear that? Oh, you're in for it now!"

Louis looked up at him. "_They're_ in for it? Francis, we're _locked in a room with no weapons_."

Francis straightened up. "Alright. No more joking around. You need to let us out of here, or you're both going to die."

"What the hell are you talking about?" the short soldier asked. "_Noise_." Francis yelled. "They're attracted to noise." Louis nodded vigorously, and elaborated. "We've got about twenty seconds to get armed and outta here before-"

There was suddenly a low moaning noise down the corridor. "Ohhh, shit." Louis whispered.

An unmasked, bloody man burst out of the door at the end of the corridor. He looked at them, whispered, "_Run_," and slumped over to his death. The alarm suddenly cut off.

"Let us _out_!" Francis yelled. "This is _not_ a _damn trick_! We can _help you_!" Louis screamed.

"What do you think, Annie?" Jeff asked, stepping away from the corpse.

"Jeff, if Mora hears we let _carriers_ escape, we're-"

The moaning continued, and a long, clawed white hand slowly slid open the door.

A Witch slowly walked towards the two soldiers, as they whipped their guns at the mutation. "Don't shoot, _don't shoot, that's a Witch_!" Louis screamed

"Are you _insane_?" Annie whispered.

"She'll walk right past you! Lower your guns, get flat up against the wall!"

Francis crossed his arms and muttered, "Man, I _know_ what a Witch is and that sounds like bad advice."

Louis pounded on the glass, yelling, "Jesus, _think about it_! Why would I _lie to you_ about this? You two are our _only chance_ to get out of here! _Please_."

"This is so stupid..." Jeff muttered, pressing himself and Annie against the concrete wall. The Witch slowly walked right past them, off down the corridor as the soldiers' breath could be heard against the masks.

The soldiers watched as the Witch disappeared around the hallway. Slowly, Jeff opened the cell door, letting Louis and Francis out. "Alright, zombie experts," Annie slowly said. "There's an armory down the hall. Let's get you guys some guns."

As they rounded the corner, Jeff suddenly took a few steps back. "Oh, _shit_!" he yelled, pointing his gun at something. "Stay back, there's a-"

A huge, lumbering Boomer came striding up the staircase towards them. Jeff began firing away, just as Louis pushed the assault rifle out of the way. "Francis! _Take it_!"

Francis dove forward, yelling, "Everybody watchin'? You guys are gonna _love_ this." He shoved the Boomer down the stairs as it vomited all over the wall, and finally exploding at the bottom of the stairs. They all ducked out of the way of the incoming goo.

Jeff stared at the mess. "I'm just curious. Are there any of these things we _can_ shoot?"

Louis turned to him. "Tell you what. Gimme your pistol. Just shoot whatever we shoot first."

"Done."

"Francis, how bad you get sprayed back there?"

"Not bad. We'll probably be f-"

Without warning, dozens of zombies started slamming against the door at the end of this corridor. They exploded through, leaving the four to blast away at them, running throughout the Millhaven compound.

**Day 19. October 7, 2009. 9:08 P.M.**

The air was silent. Two soldiers walked along a tall concrete wall of the Millhaven compound. Only one of them wore a gas mask.

"Far as I know it's happenin' right now," the unmasked man said. He had a mustache, and paused to light a cigarette. He continued to his comrade, "I figure Mora gets a court martial for it. At least. It is wartime. And he's still doin' it. Tell me that ain't a Lieutenant who looks after his god damn men."

"Shouldn't take your mask off, Jim."

Jim's white face chuckled, and looked at the soldier. "Heh. You gonna tell CEDA on me, Nate? Virus ain't airborne. You see a carrier tryin' to spit in my mouth, you let me know."

Suddenly, over the loudspeakers, a piercingly loud alarm went off into the night. There was darkness in the forest around them, but there was certainly something else lurking around. "_Hah_!" Jim yelled, looking at an intercom. "You hear _that_? Thank you, Lieutenant _Mora_! Get'cher bags packed, man. We're fallin' back to ECHO."

Behind him, a blurred shape suddenly leaped over the wall, and collided into Nate. Jim heard the noise, and turned around, horrified to see a hooded creature tearing away at Nate's stomach. He quickly drew his assault rifle up, when a long, thick, wet tentacle wrapped around his neck.

He was thrown down, and began to be dragged over to a tall, smoking zombie that promptly began tearing away at Jim's torso and face, having ensnared him. With the assistance of several other zombies that had climbed up, Jim and Nate were soon both dead.

**Day 19. October 7, 2009. 9:14 P.M.**

Three survivors quickly ran down a narrow, concrete hallway. Bill led the two, armed with a butcher's knife, cutting up any infected in their way. Behind him, followed Zoey and the doctor, who'd completely removed his small white ventilation mask. "We gettin' near that armory yet, Doc? My arms are gettin' _tired_," Bill called as he swung the blade into a skull.

"J - just up ahead," the doctor stammered, pointing at a small gray door at the end of the hallway. They approached it, and the doctor punched in a code, as Zoey mused, "Huh. Why is the door sticky?"

"Boomer shit?" Bill asked her.

"No. Smells more like..."

The door automatically slid open, revealing Louis, Francis, and two gas masked soldiers sitting on some crates and eating peanut butter. Behind them were rows and rows of guns.

"Zoey! Bill!" Louis yelled at them. "Oh, _man_, it is _good_ to see you guys!"

"Sweet jesus, is that _peanut butter_?" Zoey asked him, looking at the jars. "That _is_ peanut butter."

"_Yep_!" Louis responded cheerfully. "Army sized. I could put my head in this thing."

Zoey clapped her hands together and whispered, "_Give it to Zoey_."

She ate spoonfuls of the stuff. "Mmfghhsdfh. _Shoguhd_. Where'd you _findghis_?"

"How hungry are you?" Louis asked cautiously.

"In_shanely_."

"Then you probably don't wanna know."

Francis walked up to Bill with a cocky grin on his face. "Hey, Bill. Heard you two went to see a doctor. What's the prognosis? Still old?"

Bill crossed his arms and muttered, "Son, I am almost _happy_ to hear your horseshit again."

"_Really_? Uhhh... Kenny Rogers' balls called. They want their hair back from your fa-"

"Alright, don't push it." Bill then turned to Louis and said, "Louis. Good to see you, son. What are we looking at here?"

"Pretty well stocked," Louis mused, looking down at a map they'd spread out earlier. "Mostly M16's and pistols. Me and Annie were just talking about a way out of here. Jeff, Annie, this is Bill."

"Not a fan of peanut butter, Annie?" Bill asked her, narrowing his eyes.

"Not enough to take my mask off."

Bill nodded. "Tell me about this way out of here."

"Train depot in the east yard. Troop transport."

Jeff stared at Annie. "Train depot? That's on the other side of the base."

Bill looked up at Jeff. "How far we talking? Quarter mile?"

Jeff nodded through his gas mask. "Quarter mile of _solid infected_. And whatever these new things are. It'd be suicide."

Bill stared at him. "'Jeff', was it? Jeff, the four of us walked here from _Philadelphia_. I think we can make it across a courtyard."

Zoey chatted with Francis in the corner. "So..." she said. "You have a close enough relationship with Kenny Rogers' balls that they called you, huh?"

"Oh right. Uh... I took a message for Louis."

She giggled. "It's good to see you again, Francis. There has not been a lot to laugh about today."

"_Really_? That sucks."

She stared at him seriously. "Dude. _How_ do you do it? How are you still cracking jokes when everything just keeps getting _shittier and shittier_?"

"_Shittier_?" he asked her incredulously. "Zoey, the zombie apocalypse is the _best thing_ that's ever _happened_ to me."

**Day 19. October 7, 2009. 9:19 P.M.**

A squad of masked soldiers blasted their way through a horde of zombies atop a high concrete wall. One of them yelled, "Lieutenant Mora! Major Everly wants everyone to report to the east yard! They're making a stand there!"

Mora was busy shooting a zombie's brains out with a Glock. "Do not respond, Sergeant!" he yelled back. "We are no longer in the saving the world business! We are saving _ourselves_!"

Suddenly, Lieutenant Mora fell off the wall, landing on the ground. A zombie tore away at his mask, just as he shot it in the head. "Agh! God _damn_ it!" he screamed as the mask fell off.

"Alright, pull me up!" he called up to the other soldiers. "We find a vehicle, we can bug out of this shit hole once and for all."

They stared down at them. The Sergeant quietly said, "I can't do that, sir."

Mora stared at him incredulously. "Have you lost your mind, Sergeant?" he barked. "Pull me up!"

"Sir, your mask is off."

"So throw me a fucking spare!" he screamed up at the Sergeant. They just stared at him, as Mora's eyes widened. He touched the long, blood red scratch on his own face, and yelled, "For god's sake, Hendricks, it's a _scratch_! Don't let me die because of some _CEDA safety bullshit_!"

"Sir. You've been _compromised_."

A wave of infected approached Mora. "Fine," he yelled back. "If I turn, kill me. Happy? Pull me up."

The squad began to run along the wall away from him. "Do you _hear me_?" Mora screamed after him as the mob approached. "Come _back here_! That is an _order_, Sergeant!"

They were gone. Mora slowly turned to the approaching zombies, readied his pistols, and muttered, "Right..."

**Day 19. October 7, 2009. 9:23 P.M.**

"Alright, new meat, listen up," Bill yelled as the team of seven rushed out the door of the compound and into the night. Everyone had weapons, even the doctor. "It's a quarter mile to the train yard. When we get there, we're getting on the first train pointing south. You want to join us, that's your business. As for getting there, I don't care _how much_ training you think you've got. You stay close. You keep up. And you don't do _shit_ 'til you see us four do it first. You fall behind... we _leave_ you behind."

They ran along, and Zoey caught up to run adjacent to Bill. "Hey," she said in between pants. "Hey, kid," he mumbled back.

"Didn't want to interrupt your tough guy speech back there, but... why _south_?"

"Been thinking of a way out of all this. For the four of us. I'll fill you in on the train, Zoey. I promise. Until then... I need you to trust me."

"Sure, Bill," she muttered as they hurried past stone buildings, windows blaring with lights and blood. "By the way?" she suddenly said. "I call bullshit. No way you're leaving the new meat if they fall behind."

"Watch me."

She suddenly stopped, and glared at him. "How about _us_?" she demanded. "You leaving _us_ behind too?"

"Never," he instantly said as they approached the tall main compound. "We come back for our own."

The doctor was panting, in attempt to keep up with the other six. "Not many... zombies around so far. This is good. This is very good."

Louis frowned. "No, man. This is bad. This is very _very_ bad. Zombies are like... _piranhas_. They ain't too _choosy_ about who they attack, you know?"

"Right..." the doctor repeated slowly. Louis continued, "Point bein', you jump into a lake fulla piranhas, and you ain't gettin' attacked? Means there's a _shark_ around."

As if on cue, the ground suddenly rumbled. "Guys! You hear that?" Louis yelled. "I think we better..."

Louis suddenly came face to face with Lieutenant Mora, holding a pistol at Louis's head. "...deal with this idiot pointing a gun at us," Louis finished as the ground rumbled once more. "Uh... hey, man! You alright?"

Lieutenant Mora was severely injured, bleeding profusely out of his arms and head. "..._your fault_..." he mumbled, staggering towards them. "..._all of this is your fault_..."

"Why'd we stop?" Francis asked, looking ahead. "Guy with a gun," Zoey said. Francis crossed his arms, and muttered, "So? _I_ got a gun." Zoey frowned, and said, "Yeah, well. You aren't _crazy_."

Louis held his hands up as Mora staggered forward. "Listen, man, there's somethin' _real damn big_ comin' this way, you might wanna..."

"..._your fault_..."

Louis shook his head incredulously, and said, "I... whatever, man. Sure."

"_Don't agree with him_!" Zoey whispered harshly. "I'm trying to _negotiate_-" Louis whispered back when the rumbling continued. Francis cut in, and said, "Here, let me try. Uhhh... _hello there_! I am a _cop_. We've been investigating... whatever it is you're upset about. And, uh... it's _Louis_'s fault."

"..._Louis_..." Mora mumbled, raising the gun higher with a shaking hand. "..._which one of you_... _is Louis_...?"

Louis nudged Francis's elbow, and protested, "_Francis_!" Francis nodded vigorously, gave Louis a thumbs up, and loudly said, "That's _right_! My name is _Francis_. Thank you, _Louis_." He then leaned backwards and whispered, "It's working... everybody but Louis get ready to run..."

Bill knocked Francis out of the way and said, as the rumbling got nearer, "Alright, enough horseshit."

He punched Lieutenant Mora straight in the face, knocking the pistol out of his hand and knocking Mora to the ground. "Haul _ass_, people!" he yelled, waving Annie, Jeff, and the doctor forward. They all ran past Mora, who was quickly killed by a Tank's huge, tree trunk-like arms.

The doctor pointed off back towards the base. "There's a copter taking off!" he said excitedly. "We could flag it down! We could-"

"Keep moving," Zoey ordered, as the helicopter was pulled down by a ten foot tall Tank. Everyone watched in horror as the aircraft spun towards the ground, and exploded right behind them, sending fire, shrapnel, and debris everywhere.

Louis was thrown into a military jeep, which began to leak gasoline from a stray piece of flying metal. Zoey sprinted away from the Tank, shooting wildly with Annie, who whispered in horror, "_Oh shit oh shit what do we do_"

"Run and gun, Annie! Don't let it close the distance!"

They ran, but the bullets were pretty much stopped by the beast's thick layers of muscle protection. Suddenly, the Tank began to rip up a portion of the ground to throw at them. "He's throwing _the road at us_!" Annie screamed through her gas mask. "Yeah, they'll do that. Reloading!" Zoey called, pulling Annie out of the way. Just then, Louis sped by straight towards the Tank in a military jeep, which poured thin, clear liquid out of the fuel tank. "Doin' good, man..." he muttered to himself as the car sped up. "Get ready to jump... out of a _moving vehicle_ god _damn_ was this a stupid plan."

Francis stared. "Bill, why is Louis doing the _stupidest thing_ I've ever seen?"

"Gas. He's leaking _gas_."

The jeep was suddenly hit by the giant chunk of concrete thrown by the Tank, and it swerved, smashing into the Tank right after Louis bailed out. He limped towards the others, as Bill dropped his lit cigarette straight onto the gas trail.

One spontaneous fire later, and the car exploded, taking the Tank along with it in a fiery orange explosion that sent heat waves over the seven survivors. Louis glanced down at his feet, and said, "Train tracks. See, Francis? I told you we'd make it."

Annie stopped with Jeff, and pointed to the horizon. In the distance, was a tall control tower with lights blazing down from it. "There's the holdout spot," she said. "We'd better join up."

Zoey looked at her. "You sure? You can come with us."

"Nah. We've got heavy artillery. A choke point. We'll fight off this wave, then head to ECHO."

"Annie. They _never stop coming_."

Annie looked at Zoey, expression hidden by the gas mask. "Zoey, we can't go with you guys. You know that. These gas masks... they might..."

Zoey nodded slowly, and waved at them as the other four survivors prepared to board the train. "No, I know. Good luck, guys."

Bill sprinted towards the train. "Train, people! Move! Louis! You still got those pipes?"

"Damn _right_, Bill!"

"Throw 'em! _All of 'em_!"

Moments later, Louis and Francis were standing in the very front of the train, staring at the controls. "Um," Louis stuttered, staring at the many buttons, switches, and levers. "Do we _know_ how to drive a train?"

Francis nodded slowly, scratching his goatee and looking at the mess of controls. "I can. Help me find a steering wheel."

"Shouldn't we... I dunno. Turn it _on_ first?"

"Look for wires. I can _hot wire_ it."

Bill suddenly pushed past Francis, pulled down a lever, flipped three switches, and pressed a lit button. The train cranked up with a jerk, and slowly started to creak forward.

**Day 19. October 7, 2009. 9:42 P.M.**

"_Here they come! Let 'em have it!_"

"_What the hell is that?_"

"_Shoot the tongues!_"

"_They're inside the perimeter!_"

"_Go! Go! Go!_"

"_-back! Fall back!_"

"_-too many-_"

"_-sir, east wall is not responding!_"

"_-retreat to the-_"

"_Jesus christ, they're everywhere-_"

"_-down to me and Ruskin here, we - AAEEEGH-_"

"_North wall, respond!_"

"_South wall, respond!_"

"_Anyone! Is anyone still out there?_"

**Day 19. October 7, 2009. 9:44 P.M.**

Zoey stood on the side of the speeding up train. The only person still on the ground outside was the doctor, who was have difficulty keeping up. "Bill, slow down a sec!" she screamed, arm outreached. "Bill? _Slow down_! There's more people coming!"

A Hunter suddenly collided with the doctor, knocking him over and into the train's dust. "_Damn it_!" she screamed as the dying, bloodied doctor receded away, attacked by the horde. The train did not slow down. Way off in the distance, the gunfire in the fort had died down, but the screams of infected did not.

Zoey ran back to the front compartment. "Bill, they're getting _slaughtered_ out there! _Stop the train_!"

Bill didn't move. Francis and Louis turned around and promptly began to walk into another compartment.

Bill's hand was suddenly on Zoey's shoulder. "Zoey. We're not stopping this train."

She stared at him as the train sped up. "I - _what_? Are you _kidding_? We _already_ lost the doc because you couldn't wait _five minutes_! Bill, we do this _all the time_! It's _what we do_!"

"No. We look after our own."

"Bill. _Stop_. _The train_."

There was silence.

"_Bill! Stop the damn train!_"

* * *

NOTE: And there you have it, folks. The largest chapter yet. I am cooking up something big for the next chapter, which will conclude the interludes. Also, next chapter will be my second favorite chapter in this novelization so far. Just so much happens in it. (My favorite chapter is actually chapter 29, which is going to be a ways from now. That's right. I have had this entire thing planned out since day one, man. Day. One.)

Anyway! Please review if you liked this. I know, I know, this is heavily based on The Sacrifice comic, but I PROMISE YOU this is the last one. After this, is completely original writing, except for like the setting of Left 4 Dead 2.

Ready? Are you sure? Well, follow, favorite, review and shamelessly self advertise for the next exciting installment of...

THE FALL OF HUMANITY!


	14. CEDA

_War does not determine who is right - only who is left._**  
**

_~ Bertrand Russell_

* * *

**Day 20. October 8, 2009. 8:59 A.M.**

It was early morning. An african american young woman stood next to what appeared to be a news van. The streets behind her were packed with hurried people, and a traffic jam was just on the road beside her. A man holding a camera was holding it towards her, and she held a microphone with an anxious look on her face.

The camera man suddenly jolted up, and held up his fingers, counting down from five. When he reached one, she smiled a cheery smile, and held the microphone up to her face.

"Thanks, Sandra. Well, as you can see, we've come to a bit of a stand-still in Savannah, with traffic being almost _impenetrable_. Residents were advised to evacuate early Wednesday morning. CEDA authorities are on the scene, however, and are advising people to actually stay _out of the traffic_ and hold out in their homes."

There was a pause as the woman carefully listened into her earpiece, and then continued with a smile. "I'm glad you asked that. CEDA has estimated it will be here by Friday evening, however, people are reporting the virus as close as South Carolina. For those of you unaware of where to go here in Savannah, the closest evacuation points are The Vannah Hotel, as seen behind me, and Liberty Mall, which is just a few blocks away. CEDA is there at both locations, ready to rescue any new survivors. I'm Rochelle, and this was your morning 9 o'clock breaking news story."

She waited for a few moments, still wearing that feigned smile, and then grew grim when the camera man gave her the thumbs up. The camera was switched off as she proclaimed, "Great. Come on, we oughta get going. I got a call from the guys back in Atlanta, who say the disease is already in Augusta. You drivin'?"

The camera man was struggling to carry the camera and many cords that went with the set up. "Yep," he croaked, lugging a large adapter into the van. "You don't think we'll have any issue getting out of Savannah? Those pile-ups look pretty bad..."

She waved him down, laughing. "Don't worry, I'm not an idiot. We'll just take the back roads or something. We'll be out of here and back towards Atlanta in no time."

**Day 20. October 8, 2009. 11:32 P.M.**

"Smitty!"

"_Yo_!"

"Dusty!"

"_Yeah_!"

"Jake!"

"_Damn straight_!"

"Alright!" yelled an overweight, sunglasses wearing man. He had a guitar strapped to his back. "We got _two options_! Wanna explain, Jake?"

"Damn _straight_, Ox!" Jake yelled again, who had a black tee-shirt on. "Here's the deal. We either run away like _pussies_, or _rock out_! Hell if we miss a concert for the first time! And I'm not counting that one time in Albuquerque!"

"_That one time_!" Smitty yelled for no apparent reason.

"Hold on, _hold on_," Dusty said, holding his hands up, glasses flashing sunlight. The four stood on a deserted concert stage, with music equipment everywhere. "Now, I totally get stayin' here an' rockin' out, my bros. We got hells'a fans out there, 'specially here in Griffin. But, see, I been thinkin'. This's a zombie 'pocalypse, right up north. Now, raise your hand if you god damn played the _Call o' Duty World at War_!"

All four of them raised their hands. Smitty whooped unnecessarily.

"Alright, y'know that _zombie game mode_? The one with the _Nazis_?"

"Hell _yeah_! You know we played that game all the time on the tour bus!" Ox yelled.

"Well, I been thinkin' that's a _real zombie 'pocalypse_. How many god damn times d'ya think _that_ happens?"

"Every _billion years_!" Smitty yelled.

"_Exactly_, my man. Now, tell me I ain't the _only one_ thinkin' o' goin' up there an' _kickin' some zombie ass_!"

All four of them cheered. Smitty stumbled, and reached for a bottle of whiskey that was on the stage. "Now, we're gonna take that tour bus an' go to... fuck it, _Seattle_! That's pretty north, am I right?"

"Hells yeah, it is!" Ox cheered. "I mean, damn, bro, it was _snowin_' up there last time! It'd be like we were in Russia, fuckin' up some commie dudes! Nazis, bro!"

"Sweet, bro!" Jake said. "Alright, we'll take the bus, pop through 'tlanta, an' go straight up north to Seattle, then! But, man, we're gonna need some _pistols an' money_!"

"An' some... _beer_!" Smitty slurred, taking a long swig of whiskey. In the fairgrounds behind them, CEDA workers frantically evacuated the remaining survivors in Griffin, Georgia. A helicopter flew right over them as they chuckled along, heading south.

**Day 20. October 8, 2009. 1:04 P.M.**

The school was a mess. People were milling about everywhere. Armored, gas masked soldiers carrying military rifles patrolled the corridors.

This was evacuation point Murphy. It was one of many in Mobile, Alabama, as CEDA workers struggled to evacuate those who remained in the small port-side city. The infection was said to arrive sometime in the next week, but the reality was, it would arrive that night.

"Help me! You've got to help me find my girlfriend!"

An equipment clad, gas masked soldier turned around to face an anxious man, probably in his early thirties.

"Go see CEDA at the missings person station in the library."

The young man was turned around, and proceeded to run down the sunlit hallway. There was a general alarm about the populace; this school was currently holding around six thousand evacuees. The soldier sighed, and continued down the corridor. The overhead, electrical lights dimmed slightly. Suddenly, the radio crackled in his ear.

"Uhhh, Sergeant? I've got about a dozen people trying to mob evac... uh, two. I'm gonna need some assistance over here. Private Donald is here, but these damn people won't calm down. Uh, over."

The gas masked Sergeant pressed a finger into his earpiece, and muttered, "Try to keep the damn operation under control. Always ask for assistance on the main channel. We gotta get these people outta here in the next few days. Out."

He continued through the halls. People sat on the tiled floor, and every now and then, someone called for a loved one.

"Eliza? Are you in here?"

"Has anyone seen our son?"

"Are you my mummy?"

"I need doctor here! Rapidly!"

The Sergeant sped over to where a woman lay collapsed on the ground, drenched with sweat. There was a large crowd gathered around her. A foreign looking man stood next to her waving his arms maniacally. He looked at the approaching soldier with surprise on his face.

"I know not what to do, my wife, my wife is labored. I need doctor here!"

Sergeant held his hand up. "Calm down. What's the matter here? Is she pregnant?"

The middle-eastern looking woman had quite a pronounced stomach. She was taking heaving breaths. Sergeant said, "Alright, do you think she can move around with assistance? Take her to the CEDA guys in the nurse's station, and... they'll see what they can do. Just around the corner there," he concluded with a point. The Arabian man seemed to understand, and carefully led his wife towards the nurse's room. Sergeant nodded slightly, and proceeded out the front door and into the open.

There was a large number of people around here. A tall metal flagpole rose just in front of him, and the evacuation buses lay just beyond. Huge oak trees dotted the school lawn, as flat gray clouds covered the sky above, letting in only a dim gray to light the landscape. A helicopter hovered just overhead, apparently heading west. If he was to climb up on one of the school's high towers, he might see the tall buildings of Mobile to the east.

This was their last hope of getting the uninfected population out of the city. In every major city across the southeast, similar evacuation efforts were being made. Florida, Georgia, Alabama, the number grew daily. Virginia had become completely infected in the previous two days. If this was an issue that CEDA, the military, _the world_ couldn't stop, _a completely incurable virus_, then the Sergeant had no clue what would.

**Day 20. October 8, 2009. 3:19 P.M.**

"Yeah, well, tell _Dave_ I said _that_, man."

It was mid afternoon. The sun bore down from the heavens upon a small garage in the city of Savannah, Georgia. Gunfire could be heard faintly in the distance, and a police siren wailed nearby. A white, southern-accented guy in overalls was working under the hood of a truck, a cell phone cradled under his ear as the sound of a wrench cranked along.

"...uh _huh_. Y'all'd better make room for three, then. Ain't _no way_ ya'll're gonna leave _me_ behind. Y'just ain't gonna be forgettin' 'bout Ellis here."

There was a pause as Ellis inspected a long black hose on the inside of the car. "Aw, _thanks, brother_! Don' sweat it, man, them zombies ain't got shit. ...yeah, man, just pick me up from my ma's house, then."

"...I dunno, maybe 'round six or so? Listen, man, I gotta get goin'. I'll see ya tonight."

He stood there for several seconds, listening into the cell phone. "...hello? Keith? You there, man? ...damn..."

The phone was hung up, and set on a shelf behind him. Ellis knelt down, peering into the depths of the engine. "Let's see here..."

He reached forward and replaced the old, rusting battery with a new one he'd had for a while. With a quick flip of a switch and the turn of the keys, the truck roared to life. Ellis whooped and clapped his hands, and cut the engine.

As he took a long swig from a cold bottle of beer, there was faint yelling coming from the street over. His head poked out of the garage door, looking at the street outside.

A huge mass of people were running along the street, towards a tall (or about as tall as you can get in Savannah) building a few blocks away. Ellis walked outside, watching as they passed, and yelled, "Hey, y'all, what's all the commotion 'bout?"

Hundreds of infected were sweeping through the streets straight towards the masses of civilians. Ellis's eyes widened as he yelled, "Ho' shit, _run_!"

He joined the running people, some of which at the back were shooting at the infected with pistols. However, these were thousands of zombies, sweeping in from the cities of the north. It wouldn't be possible to survive the initial wave of travelling zombies by running.

They ran towards the tall building; The Vannah Hotel. There were CEDA agents already waiting for them, for the last batch of people. Ellis was one of the first within the perimeter, sprinting towards the front door as quickly as his feet permitted. About half of the crowd behind him had succumbed to the disease either by exposure or direct contact. As the last few survivors entered the hotel unscathed to join the dozens of other survivors, CEDA quickly barred the safe room door from anything else getting in. Nobody seemed to notice a flaming pot of beans in the kitchen, left on the stove after the previous night.

**Day 20. October 8, 2009. 4:32 P.M.**

"Alright, people! Come on! _Let's move it_!"

A huge mass of people was herded through a tall metal gate in a large, abandoned theme park. The sun slowly set to the west against a tall round Ferris wheel, creating thin shafts of light in between the metal supports. Gunfire was sounding off in the distance, and a siren off in the town of Griffin wailed, bleak and mournful.

CEDA officials wearing hazmat suits guided the people along with a wave of their hands. Ahead, were several buses that were ready to be shipped off to New Orleans. Slowly, they filled up with all the people to be evacuated.

An official watched the scene with a desperate eye, and declared, "Okay, guys! I think that's all we can handle! Get 'em out of here! We're closing this evacuation point!"

One by one, the buses were filed into a line, and began to drive towards a main road, heading west. There was a loud explosion from elsewhere within the theme park.

"Fuck!" the official yelled, as the horrible, earsplitting collective shrieks of hundreds of infected grew nearer. The gunfire started to die down suddenly, and smoke drifted up from one of the concession stands in the distance. Dozens of figures gathered around it, clawing desperately at whoever was inside. Most simply kept running, towards the few remaining CEDA officials.

"Gah!" yelled one hazmat guy, who had his suit punctured by a bloody claw. Some tried to run, but it only proved futile. There were hundreds of them, and terrible, mutated ones. Ones that could snag you with a long, muscular tongue, ones that could spit huge puddles of acid on the floor below you, ones that could charge at whoever was left, knocking them down like bowling pins.

In minutes, there was nobody left in the Whispering Oaks theme park. The buses had left. Even the band that was scheduled to play there the next day had left on a tour bus that morning. Those who had sacrificed their lives would be forgotten, within minutes of driving away. They were not the first, and they would not be the last to sacrifice themselves for a greater cause.

**Day 20. October 8, 2009. 6:53 P.M.**

People who say prison isn't half bad haven't been to prison before.

Sometimes, it's living hell. There are fights, rapes, brutality, isolation, and murders.

For someone like Murphy Shelton, a young black man recently dragged into the criminal underworld, heading straight to Holman Correctional Facility was a death sentence. He'd never done very much to warrant trouble as a teenager. But as unemployment began to soar with the economic crisis of 2008, it became impossible to avoid the opportunity to not become homeless. The recent store rushes in the past weeks hadn't helped anything, either.

The prison bus rattled along, the distant flickering city lights of Birmingham, Alabama receding into a yellow haze. As a vehicle of government property, it had priority on military controlled roads in the current crisis.

Murphy was donned in an orange jumpsuit, black numbers reading "_INMATE 4213_" on the back of his shirt. He had deep brown eyes, and dark brown hair intricately woven into long dreadlocks. The prison bus was full of the other inmates; some were sleeping, others gazing out the window at the receding city of Birmingham, and others just stared off into distance. Murphy examined the shackles that were holding his feet to the floor, connecting each prisoner securely to the bus. Occasionally, the bus jolted slightly to avoid a parked military jeep, but the journey was otherwise calm.

A couple future inmates were joking about salad for some reason, occasionally roaring with laughter. Their driver and guard were intent on the headlight-lit road ahead of them. A military helicopter roared above them, heading straight for the city.

"_Now_," the driver said suddenly into the intercom, waking a few inmates, "_we got 'bout four hours from here up until Holman, which ain't far from Atmore, down in the 'armpit of the South'. So you boys get real cozy like, 'cause it'll be a whil_-"

Suddenly, with a loud moan, a huge object smashed into the left side of the bus, sending it skidding to the ditch alongside the road to the right.

"Oh, _fuck_!"

The bus collided into several pine trees as the base of the ditch. Dozens of figures began surrounding the bus, attacking at the windows. Murphy grabbed the seat for support, as the bus tilted at about a forty five degree angle. Glass was being shattered everywhere, sending the inmates yelling in fright. He attempted to get up, but the chains were holding his feet in place.

"_Shit_!" Murphy whispered, looking around. A few of the inmates were desperately trying to fit their feet through the shackles, but most were either unconscious or else killed by the claws reaching into the bus.

Murphy realized the guard was unconscious a few feet away from him. He carefully dragged the body over, and inspected the pockets, and successfully finding the keys. With a little work, the shackle was off, and Murphy was finally able to gingerly stand up.

"Hey! Gimme those _god damn keys_, son!" an inmate yelled at him, panic playing into the voice. A few other inmates started yelling, too.

Murphy lifted a pistol from the unconscious guard, who was gradually beginning to stir. He then tossed the set of keys to the guy in the first row, ran out to the back door, and jumped out.

There were maybe a dozen of the figures around the bus, shaking it and snarling desperately. None of them appeared to notice him sneak his way back onto the interstate. The interstate was also dotted with these things, which ran at Murphy the moment he showed his face. He raised the pistol, squinted his eyes, and took them all out with head shots, in the event that this was like the Walking Dead comics that he'd read about six years ago. Jumpsuit now torn, he limped away from the crash site and bodies in an attempt to find a vehicle and take it out of this hell hole once and for all.

**Day 20. October 8, 2009.**

Atlanta, Georgia.

"_The Chicago of the South_".

There was nothing left.

The Army tried. They really did. They directed evacuating cars from Atlanta to little towns, like Marietta and Griffin.

But it wasn't enough. The infected swept through the city early that morning. Sure, there were fighters. Survivors determined to hold onto their past, their family, their friends, their future. But there were millions of infected, fresh from the huge cities of the northeast where they'd steadily been building their numbers for almost three weeks now.

CEDA'd tried, as well. Trauma centers, evacuation outposts, you name it. Every single modern weapon to be used against a deadly epidemic was used against the infection. But it wasn't enough. It turns out washing your hands didn't exactly help when there were a dozen zombies bursting through your apartment door.

The fact that the government didn't even try to hold down the city didn't help, either. They sent people to the little towns outside Atlanta, but that only clogged up the interstates, caused accidents, and ended up setting the people who were still stuck in their cars as easy bait for the zombies now sweeping the countrysides of rural Georgia, approaching Savannah, Atlanta, and Birmingham.

One of the largest cities in the world. Wiped out within a matter of hours by a rapidly mutating, growing horde of zombies that was rapidly moving west and south at a rate of one state a day. This wasn't a disease that could be stopped. The death of over seven billion people within a month was nothing short of an apocalyptic event. Already, the infection was slowly beginning to crawl its way up Great Britain, and even making its way through France and down to Africa.

There was nothing that was going to stop it. Not in today's time. An age in which our people are so connected, in the era of information, where you can fly above the clouds across oceans in hours. An age of technology, new ideals, culture and leisure.

How could twelve thousand years of human civilization be thrown away like that? Empires, conquerers, discoveries, ideas, technologies, leading up to the great second millennium.

And then, nine years in, it just stopped. Just like that. There was no guarantee that it would ever start again. Left to decay, as the great blazing blue Earth slowly erased all evidence that a civilization capable of flying to the moon had ever been there.

This isn't an adventure story.

It's a tragedy.

* * *

NOTE: And that concludes the interludes! Whatever will happen next? Review if you liked that! I eat that shit up. It's the best. Also, suggestions are good, too. Criticism is welcome, but constructive criticism would be more useful. And yes, PM me if you notice a grammar issue or whatever. I also will answer any questions you might have.

So, here we go! Also, Left 4 Dead 2 isn't really known for its characters, so I'll probably struggle with characters like Coach or even Rochelle. I don't even know all of their complete back stories very well, so I tweaked them a bit, as you can see in chapter... four, I think? And this one, too. And then, yeah, we'll be coming up to the new survivors in a few chapters! I will make a valiant effort to make all of these characters come to life. But, uh, not literally or anything. I'm not entirely sure if that is legal or within the realm of modern technology.

EDIT: To those of you still waiting patiently for Dead Center, don't worry, it's on the way! It's already about 3/4 of the way done. I expect a release date of November 10, 2013, but DON'T HOLD ME TO THAT. It's taken a while because I'm losing motivation (because the prospect of writing 3 campaigns in a row isn't exactly exciting) and because I don't have as much time. Also, I had to take extra time in this chapter to introduce all our lovely new survivors. Do not worry, the brand new OC survivors are on the way, too. They will be in chapter 19, "Failed Rescue", if this goes to plan. Exciting! I think they are my primary motivation here. I'm going to go ahead and say you've already met them all, because, well, you have. But they're not necessarily who you think! Remember that.


	15. Dead Center

_Prices aren't the only things getting slashed._

* * *

**Day 20. October 8, 2009. 3:41 P.M.**

"Aw shit, aw shit, _aw shit_..."

A hat wearing Ellis stood in the middle of a crowded hotel lobby in Savannah, Georgia. Rapid-fire machine guns could be heard loudly outside. There were multiple hazmatted CEDA officials trying to calm the crowd down.

"People! We are _going to get you evacuated_! Please get into groups based on your color coded wristba - no, _no, stop that_!"

"Holy _shit_!" someone yelled over the din. "The kitchen's on _fire_!"

There was a great, flaming fire spewing from a door to the left, the dining room. The flame blazed, approaching them. "Oh, shit... people!" the CEDA worker frantically yelled, "Everyone _go to the roof_! Stairs only! Stay calm, every - no - I - only _one at a time_!"

The dozens of people ran towards the hallway that would take them up the hotel. Smoke was rapidly filling the area. Ellis followed them, when suddenly some guy in a white suit pointed at him. He didn't look very official, even with the suit. "Hey!" the guy yelled. "You're with me! I'm not getting burned to a crisp on my way up."

Ellis shrugged. "Okay, fine by me, I guess. They makin' us take the _stairs_?"

The white skinned, black haired guy nodded, already pulling a pistol from his pockets. "Yep. Here, grab a bat, hillbilly. I have a feeling those barricades aren't gonna hold for very long. Through here."

They entered a stairwell along with the rest of the crowd. They were lagging behind. "Hey!" Ellis suddenly yelped to another survivor who was way behind the others. "Wanna stick with us?"

She was a young black woman wearing a hot pink shirt. "Yeah, sure. Everyone else got a head start. He with us, too?"

She pointed at the suited guy with the slicked back hair. "Yep," he responded, coughing slightly from the exertion. "Name's N-"

There was a suddenly explosion from somewhere downstairs. Smoke began rising up the stairwell. "Shit, we'd better get goin' y'all," Ellis muttered to the other two. They nodded, and proceeded up.

"Wait up, y'all!" yelled a voice from down the stairs. A heavily sweating, overweight african american man was heaving himself up the stairs towards them. "I... I can't make it up these stairs without knowin' someone's gonn' be here if I fall back," he muttered. Ellis nodded slowly, sheathing his bat. "Well, cool," he said, extending a hand to the man. They shook, and just like that, there were four survivors climbing the staircase towards rescue.

"You a coach?" Ellis asked the new man, looking at his polo shirt with a high school logo on it. The man nodded as he climbed. "Yeah, up at Ford High School. You know it?"

Ellis nodded vigorously as they climbed up. "Yeah, man! My buddy Keith went there for about a year or so, 'til he got kicked out on 'ccount of accidentally settin' fire to the bleachers."

The coach nodded solemnly. "The Bleachers Incident of '04. I remember it very clearly. Yo' boy Keith has a _lot_ to pay for."

"Can we just shut up and get to the roof before they leave us behind?" wheezed the suited man, who was coughing from the rising smoke. "The hotel's _on fire_. They're not gonna be too eager to stay on this building." Ellis glanced at the coach, who shrugged back.

They climbed up several more flights. They were five floors up and only halfway there, it seemed. The coach was gasping for breath, sweating uncontrollably. "Who the hell..." he wheezed, "puts an evac station... up _thirty flights_ o' god damned _stairs_?"

"Come on, coach..." the suited man panted, overtaking him, "...maybe the helicopter... maybe it's made of chocolate... heh... heheheh..."

It took at least three more flights for the coach to decide to let that one slide.

"Yes!" the woman gasped, reaching for the door at the very top. She pushed it open to find a helicopter about twenty feet above her, flying south.

"Hey, where is everybody?" Ellis asked, looking around. The roof was completely deserted now. The woman looked to the south as the others joined, and whispered, "...oh, this is not happening..."

"Hello?"

"...this is not happening..."

"Anyone here?"

...this is _not happening_..."

There were about four helicopters, all rapidly growing smaller on the horizon. The coach grimaced at the sight, and yelled, "Aren't they supposed to be savin' our asses?"

The suited man looked up, still wheezing slightly. "Look's like there's been a change of plans."

"Shit..." the coach murmured, walking around the roof. The city of Savannah could be seen in the distance, a few of the buildings visibly on fire. The hotel was south of the city, so the choppers most certainly weren't coming back. The hot southern sun bore down upon the four, even though it was early October, setting to the west. Ellis threw his hands up and yelled, "Well, damn it, what now? We just got our asses left behind. Y'think there's any other places like this in the city?"

There was a sudden, jolting movement of the floor beneath them. The building swayed precariously as smoke columns rose up dreamily from the structure. The woman waited for the building to stabilize again, and said, "Well, first things first, we get off of this building. I don't hear any fire trucks yet. The only other evacuation site would be at some mall around here."

Ellis's eyes widened. "That's _Liberty Mall_! Oh, man, that's only a coupl'a blocks from here. Oh, uh, my name's Ellis, ma'am."

The woman nodded, and shook his outstretched hand. "Name's Rochelle. Who's suit guy?"

The white suited man looked up at them, still trying to catch his breath from the climb up. "Nick. Pleased to meetcha."

Rochelle looked at the coach, who shrugged. "People call me Coach," the coach said. Rochelle nodded slowly. "Well, okay. We'll stick together until we find the evac station. You think those... infected will be much trouble?"

Nick shook his head. "Nah. Those bastards ain't got _shit_. Had to fight through about thirty on my way here. If we keep quiet... they won't suspect a thing."

There was yet another ominous rattle from the structure beneath their feet, and Rochelle murmured, "We should get going. Grab some ammo and supplies, and we'll head out. I have _no idea_ how bad it's going to be out there..."

Everyone grabbed a weapon. Ellis kept his bat, Nick plucked up another pistol to dual wield, Rochelle gingerly picked up a pistol, and Coach lifted a heavy fire ax. They set off back down the stairs one level, and came face to face with dozens of infected human beings, all possessed with a desire to destroy any remnant of humanity left in this world.

"Aw, hell! They're _up here_!" Ellis yelled, knocking one down. Nick shot one in the head without flinching, as Rochelle slowly stepped back. Coach lopped a head off of one.

Around the corner at the end of the hall, a tall zombie lumbered toward them. It appeared female, and had a long trail of what looked like green spit coming from its mouth. It hacked, and spat a giant puddle of the stuff.

"_Fuck_!" Coach yelled, dancing around the stuff. "This stuff burns my _feet_!"

The rubber on the bottom of his boots was being burnt off as he spoke. They jumped out of the stuff, as Nick shot the creature once in the head.

A few dozen other infected impeded their way to the stairs going down on the other end of the building, but with the blunt end of Ellis's baseball bat, they were quickly dispatched. Blocking their view of the door ahead, however, was a roaring blaze of fire in the center of the hall.

"Oh, jesus!" Rochelle yelled, stepping back. "The fire's up here already! Do you think they got a fire escape somewhere?"

"Doubt it, ma'am," Ellis grunted, pushing back an infected. "Them stairs go all th'way down to the lobby. C'mon, we'll cut through the rooms!"

They used the side doors of the hotel suites to navigate around the hallway blaze. The fire was on the eighth floor of the building. The structure wasn't going to last long.

Within a few moments, they were running down the stairs. Unfortunately, their progress was immediately blocked by a roaring fire.

"Damn!" Coach yelled, wiping down his ax. "We ain't gettin' 'round _that_!"

"Oh, yes, we are!" Nick yelled, pointing down the hallway of the seventh floor. "The elevators! I bet we can take them down to the lobby!"

Nick began running down the hall, as even Ellis glanced at Rochelle. It didn't seem too good a plan, but what other choice did they have? Stay up here, and have a 100% chance of dying? Or ride the elevator down and _probably_ die?

Nick reached the elevator doors. Coach was trailing behind, wheezing with exertion. Nick pressed the button to go down, and waited for the elevator to arrive.

"You... you so sure this is a good plan?" Rochelle panted, arriving shortly before Coach. Nick grimaced. "It's the only plan we got. Would you rather die up here?"

Rochelle looked down, shrugged, and said, "Okay, smart ass. But if we die, it's on you."

Nick smiled as the elevator beeped beside him. "Not my concern, then. Come on."

A few seconds later, and the small box was traveling down to the lobby, swaying slightly. Ellis suddenly gasped. "Hey, y'all, anyone get bitten? I don' wanna have to shootcha, but in _zombie movies_ they always gotta-"

Rochelle gave him a reassuring pat on the back. "Ellis, I think we'll be fine. Let's just concentrate on getting out of this hotel, first, alright?"

Ellis nodded slowly as the elevator came to a shuddering stop. The lights suddenly went off, and smoke began seeping through the crack of the door. "Shit," Nick muttered. "I think it's stuck at the bottom. Maybe I can pry this door open-"

The doors slowly creaked open with Nick's hands, and huge, gray billowing columns of smoke flooded into the compartment. The intense, utterly intense heat of the blaze roared around them in the cramped hallway. The ceiling tiles above their heads shook, seeming willing to give way at any moment.

"Grab a gun, people!" Coach yelled, picking up a pump-action shotgun from the grasp of a dead CEDA hazmat guy. "We gotta find a way out of the building! To the lobby!"

The heat was intolerable. Fire spewed everywhere, great and tall, flames licking away at the hotel's support beams. There were a few infected, but most ran straight into fire towards them.

"Where the hell _are we_?" Rochelle coughed, kicking an infected CEDA worker in the groin. There seemed to be no way out. "Just keep movin' forward, y'all!" Ellis yelled, coughing from smoke. "Maybe we can find an _emergency exit_ or somethin'!"

They ran forward. The smoke was in their eyes, inhibiting any kind of actual progress. Eventually, however, after jumping over burning tables and fallen support beams, they spotted a light at the end of the hall.

They burst into the lobby, which pretty much lacked any fire. Skylights above were littered by the bodies of zombies who jumped off. "Hey!" Nick yelled suddenly, pointing with his pistol. "We got a safe house up ahead! I know these!"

The four ran towards it, when suddenly a huge, incredibly fat zombie came lumbering out of it. It looked at them, and proceeded to vomit a huge spew of green sludge all over them. "AUGH! MY _SUIT_!" Nick screamed, wiping it off frantically. Coach took one look at the zombie, and shot at it with his shotgun, sending guts, sludge, and blood everywhere.

"You guys hear that?" Rochelle suddenly whispered, wiping the goo from her eyes. And then, above their heads, the skylights smashed. Dozens of zombies landed on the ground around them, apparently having jumped from the floors above. "Ho' shit, man! _Shoot_!" Ellis yelled, almost cackling with laughter. He ran forward, and crushed the head of one with his baseball bat. However, there were proving to be much too many zombies to take care of with just a baseball bat and a few petty guns.

"Get in, _damn it_!" Coach yelled after abandoning shooting the horde. Ellis jumped inside the room with the others, and they worked together to bar the door against the claws of zombies.

"Aw, man, y'all, that was sick!" Ellis laughed, swooping up a hunting rifle from a fold-up table in the small room. Nick chuckled, and reloaded his pistols. "Almost as _sick_ as being stuck in Savannah. Seriously, this place _sucks_. Where _the hell_ are we supposed to _go_?"

Coach sneered at Nick. "Son, this city has got a _lotta_ history behind it. Man, y'just can't _beat_ Savannah!"

Ellis nodded solemnly. "Amen to _that_, brother."

Rochelle rolled her eyes, and told Nick, "There's a mall not too far away from here, on the other side of the I-16. If we get to it, there's bound to be _some kind_ of evac for us. That make you happy?"

Nick shrugged. "I dunno. As long as we aren't dead by the time we get there. Are you guys ready to go, or what?"

Ellis looked at him, and said, "Man, I'm ready to go, if y'all are."

"Then let's do it," Coach declared, and kicked down the door.

"I dunno, guys, are we _supposed_ to be shooting people who are sick?" Rochelle yelled, watching as Ellis sniped a zombie from afar. He looked over at her, and yelped, "I don't think any o' these guys are human anymore! It's all self-defense, right?"

Nick chuckled at that. "What do you mean, they aren't _human_ anymore? Are people with _autism_ suddenly not human, then?"

Ellis shrunk away at that. "Man, y'all don't have to make it sound like _that_..."

They ran past several of CEDA's infectious disease trailers. The hazmat guys were infected too; long claw marks dotted the fronts of their suits. "Guess those suits don't stop bites, huh?" Nick yelled, popping a zombie in the head with two synchronized shots. "Really makes you wonder who decided that inflatable suits was such a good idea."

"Check this shit out!" Coach suddenly yelled, pointing down the road. Ahead, a lit-up highway sign read, "CEDA EVAC" and then flashed, "LIBERTY MALL".

"Aw, _hell yeah_!" Ellis whooped. "Man, that mall's just down the road!"

But as they drew nearer, they could make out a tall barrier across the road, the one used to shield The Vannah Hotel from the initial wave. Police cars were parked in front of it, and just beyond the barrier, was Interstate 16. "I don't think we're gonna be able to climb over this," Rochelle mused worriedly. Coach laughed then, and yelled, "Don't sweat it. I think we can get past it through that door."

True to his word, there was a gray metal door to the right, which descended into the side of the road, and ended up at the base of I-16, a road they could just walk across. "Come on!" Ellis declared, and led the way in, right when a huge object suddenly charged into him, throwing him at the tall metal barricade. He was lifted up by a huge arm, and then slammed into the ground, repeatedly.

"_Oh_!" Rochelle whispered as Coach and Nick began shooting the creature. "This is one of those _charging things_! My camera guy was... was... was attacked by one..."

A few shots later, and the thing was dead, collapsing onto Ellis. "Thanks, y'all," Ellis grunted in pain, slowly getting up. "I swear to jesus, that hurt more than the time my buddy Keith made me play bloody knuckles with him and broke my wri-"

Rochelle flagged him down. "Ellis, sweetie, if your rib cage isn't broken or anything, we _need_ to get going."

They descended down the stairwell inside, ending up at a junction of roads. I-16 apparently went underground, below the main roads, like the interstate in Atlanta. "Just find the quickest path across!" Nick yelled, knocking back a zombie with his guns. Soon, they were on the other side of the roads, and running across a tall overhanging pedestrian cross. "We're almost there!" Ellis called, after sniping a zombie down below. "I can see the sign over there!"

Against the horizon, a tall sign adorned with stars read, "Liberty Mall", right next to a few large buildings. As they climbed down some stairs, however, they realized the only way to the sign was blocked by a huge tanker truck. "Aw, _shit_..." Coach muttered, wiping the sweat from his forehead and fanning his damp polo shirt. "Wait!" Ellis suddenly yelped. They all turned and looked to where he was pointing.

Ellis was facing a small store that read, "Whitaker's Gun Shop". Ellis's mouth was wide open with awe. Nick chuckled, and muttered, "Candy store for adults. I'm in."

They entered into the musty old store. Guns - pistols, magnums, assault rifles, shotguns, military rifles, every combination you could possibly think of could be assembled in this very room. There were laser sights, gun cleaning advertisements, personal defense lessons, incendiary ammunition, mounted flashlights, automatic reloading, explosive ammunition, silencers...

"Ellis? You coming, sweetie?" Rochelle called to Ellis, who was the only one still outside. He gaped at the insides of the store for a moment longer, and sprinted inside.

"Ho' shit, y'all! THIS IS _AWESOME_! HAHA!"

Ellis had two tactical shotguns strapped to his back, one with a hastily attached laser sight. He darted around, checking out all the other military-grade weapons. Coach lifted a heavy combat shotgun. Rochelle decided to try out the military sniper rifle, dragged down by the surprising weight. Nick picked up a military-grade assault rifle, cocked it with skill, and said, "We ready to go? I'm not baby sitting. Hey, where does _this_ door go?"

He walked over to a metal door at the back of the store as Rochelle carefully inspected the reloading mechanism on her rifle. The door was locked. Nick looked at a switch on the wall, muttered, "I guess this opens it..." and pressed on the button. It buzzed. "Uh..." Nick slowly said as the others watched.

"_Hello_!" the intercom rang back out. Nick jumped in the air about a foot. It continued, "_I've barricaded myself on the roof with ample provisions. But in my haste, I forgot cola! So here's my proposition for you..._"

"Okay..." Nick replied. The other three stared. Coach looked up at the ceiling above them warily. "_If you go down to the food store and get me my cola, I'll clear a path to the mall for you._"

Nick nodded slowly, and looked back at the others. Rochelle just shrugged, and Ellis whispered, "Why not?" Rochelle decided to turn to the intercom, and said, "Sir, if you let us keep these guns, we're glad to get _whatever_ Coke you want. Ellis leaned in, and yelled, "Yeah, and please don't forget to clear the path to the mall for us, sir!"

There was a pause. "_There's more of you? Well, the deal still stands. I am a man of my word, ma'am. You can trust me on that_."

Nick nodded to himself, and said, "Alright, we'll do it."

They exited up the newly revealed stairs, and looked across the parking lot. A Save for Less sat across. "I'll go in, guys, y'all stand guard!" Ellis declared, almost eager to display his strength on his own. Rochelle rolled her eyes as he approached the doors, looked at them, and kicked them down.

_BREEEEEEEEEE_-

"_Shit_!" Nick yelled, running towards Ellis, who decided to go in anyway regardless of the alarm. "I'll go with Ellis! You two keep those _damn zombies_ off us!"

Nick ran inside as Rochelle and Coach turned to battle the approaching horde of zombies, the many that had been left behind from the initial wave, who'd bumped into walls or gotten preoccupied with pesky, running survivors. "Ellis!" Nick yelled, dodging cash registers and aisles. "Slow the _fuck down_, you idiot!"

"Come on, Nick! That dude needs his _Coke_!"

Ellis reached the back of the store, spotted a six pack of Coca-Cola, and picked it up, right as he noticed Rochelle and Coach sprinting down the aisles towards them.

"THERE'S_ THOUSANDS_-"

The infected knocked over aisles, screaming at them; the horrible, utterly terrible screams. The complete and utter hatred, the intent to kill was terrifying. You don't know that kind of terror until you've experienced it in person. When you realize that almost every single person in a city wants to kill you _with their bare hands_, it becomes really, _really_ necessary to make a few good friends.

"OH _FUCK_-"

And then the gunfire, the clear cut shot ringing out in the middle of a deserted city. Self defense can go far, but once you've killed thousands? There's no going back. You've murdered entire towns. They're still humans. You've killed a person with a disease. You're a murderer.

But does it actually matter? If a cure ever was found, it wouldn't help these people. They're puking up their own guts. That makes it okay, right?

Philosophical questions are pretty difficult to answer when you've got claws digging into your face.

"Damn! Let's get _out of here_!" Rochelle screamed, knocking the butt of her sniper rifle into the face of a zombie. They fought through the horde, guns blazing, soon reaching the doors that let them out into the parking lot. Huge swarms of zombies were approaching, jumping over gates and walls and any other obstacles that inhibited their progress. It was a bloody battle back to Whitaker's door, with Ellis swinging the cola around like it was a baseball bat, smearing the bottles with blood. When they arrived at the door, Ellis dropped the pack into the chute, yelled, "Hope you like yer Coke with _blood_, dude!" Seconds later, a missile launched out of a small hole in the wall, arriving at the tanker truck with a huge fiery explosion. The heat seared them even from about forty yards away. "Hell, yeah!" Coach yelled, pumping his fist into the air. "_Good luck_!" Whitaker yelled over the intercom, "_Gettin' to that mall, that is_."

"Oh, man, y'all, that was _awesome_-"

"-y'all remember when I just _charged right in_ an'-"

"-an' that moment when I shot that tongue guy _right in the_-"

Ellis was recounting their previous adventure blow-by-blow to his new friends as they walked towards the mall. CEDA tents were set up all over the parking lot, but they were abandoned. "Maybe they all decided to hole up 'n the mall!" Coach said suddenly, interrupting Ellis's narration. Rochelle nodded at that, and they entered a conveniently placed safe house in the front of a department store. As Ellis securely locked the door, Nick said, "Alright, we're here. If CEDA's waiting for us behind that second door, then I'll take back what I'm saying now. But when nobody's in here, we're _screwed_."

Coach grimaced at that. "Well, I think we're gonn' be fine. I bet CEDA's right 'round here somewhere. Now quitcha whinin'! We finally made it an' you gonna quit _now_? Come on, now."

Rochelle looked down at her sniper rifle, of which she hadn't fired a shot yet. "He's right," she decided. "How stupid would it be to quit _now_? We're _going_ to look around this mall and we are _going_ to find CEDA. And if we don't, then we figure out something else. That good enough for you?"

Nick smirked at her. "Sure."

Ellis ate out of a pack of crackers from the table. "We ready to go?" he asked them, crunching on the saltines. "Ain't got nothin' better to do. We come here to hang out in this safe house or somethin'?"

Coach shook his head determinedly. "No we didn't, son. We gonnl go in there an' find _help_. Y'all with me?"

Ellis whooped, and punched the air. Rochelle smiled and nodded. Nick rolled his eyes and reloaded his assault rifle. "Whatever," he muttered. "Let's just get going."

And with that, Coach kicked down the door, and they searched the mall for CEDA.

They wandered around a clothing store that was sponsoring a Fall Sale, only to find infected.

They walked through the food court, and, to the dismay of Coach, only found infected.

They even walked around the back corridors of the mall, peering into individual rooms. "Damn! _Nothin_'!" Coach whispered. The only things they found were zombies and a few of the... strange infected. Ellis was particularly wary of the "_Humper_!" that would cling to your head, and drag you away from the rest of the survivors. Another fan favorite was a hooded zombie that would pounce and leap on you from twenty feet in the air. They even saw another of the exploding, green goo zombies, which Rochelle amusingly nicknamed, "Popper".

But that was all they found. Nick swept up a bottle of pills from a medicine drawer, and said, "I don't think we're gonna find CEDA in here anymore. Let's just get outta here."

They walked along, eventually ending up at two double doors. "You think this goes outside?" Rochelle asked, eyeing it. It read, "Emergency Exit Only". "Sure," Nick muttered, reaching for the handle. "What've we got to lose?"

_BREEEEEEEEEE_-

"FUCK! WHY DO THESE THINGS _ALWAYS HAVE ALARMS_?" Nick screamed as they ran forward in the mall, punching a zombie off of a railing. "The ringin'!" Ellis yelled, pointing upwards. "It's comin' from _upstairs_!"

The infected literally poured in from the skylights above. At first they were just running towards the noise, but once they spotted the survivors making their way to the small control panel, it only led to hell. After shooting through literally hundreds of them, they made it to the alarm panel in the security room upstairs, collapsing into a huddle on the ground. The injuries were too devastating to believe. Coach got up painfully and began tending to people's wounds. "I only done this for sprained ankles," he muttered, wrapping gauze around Rochelle's blood stained arm, "but... shit. I can fix up a few, uh, _scratches_."

Ten minutes later, and the four survivors were sore and hurt, but not dying anymore. Not yet. Coach wiped the sweat from his forehead, and inspected his short black combat shotgun. "We gotta find a safe house..." he decided after a few moments of silence. They were running low on supplies, and it surely had to be sunset by now. Ellis's permanent grin was in a perpetual state of fading as he slowly began to comprehend the gravity of their situation. No military stayed behind. CEDA abandoned them. All of their bites and cuts eventually would make them become blood thirsty, shambling, brain eating zombies soon. That's how it works, right?

And then he remembered the car. "Aw, yeah, guys!" he suddenly piped up. "I know _exactly_ how we can get outta here!"

Nick turned to him as the others listened on. "Oh yeah? What d'ya got in mind, hillbilly?"

"Well," Ellis began excitedly, oblivious to the insults, "I went here back in August an' they were showin' this car or whatever, right? An' I remembered! We can get outta here in a... uh... 2010 Toyota _Prius_! Haha! _Yeah, baby_!"

They stared at him. Rochelle slowly said, "Ellis, sweetie, you know those cars are only for show, right? They don't _work_. They haven't come out yet."

Ellis looked at the others. "But, man, come on! That's like, top notch... uh... _environmental_ stuff! Hell if them zombies can catch up to us in _that_!"

They stared at him.

He stared back, grin fading again.

They didn't say anything else on the topic as they walked through the mall.

Not long later, they arrived at what appeared to be the CEDA outpost. And nobody was here.

There was a long, orange banner on a balcony, lit by the skylight above. Halted escalators were littered with bodies. CEDA official hazmat suits were all over the ground, punctured with bloody claw marks. A few zombies milled about, but the majority of those who'd been infected had probably found their way out of the mall with the first wave.

They carefully stepped around the bodies and blood, shooting down alive ones only when necessary. They made their way up to the evacuation station, but it was deserted, save for a gratuitously-placed safe room. After it was securely shut and locked, the four debated their next strategy.

"Alright!" Nick said, clapping his hands together as Coach scooted a table in front of the back door. "I get to be in charge of strategy. I say we go to Birmingham. That's supposed to be the biggest militarily controlled city in the south."

Ellis piped up, and said, "Well, _I think_ we oughta go to New Orleans! They were sayin' on the radio about how that's supposed to be place to go!"

Rochelle put her hand up as Coach rejoined them. "Well, my news station was getting a lot of reports about Florida becoming some sort of locked-down safe haven. Hell, if I'd made it back to Atlanta, I was due to speak on how we were supposed to relocate all Georgian residents to Jacksonville, so, there's that."

"We'll make it a _vote_!" Coach decided. He said, "All in favor of goin' to Birmin'ham, _raise yo' hand_!"

Nick slowly raised his hand, after objecting to making it a vote. Coach then cheerily said, "All in favor of goin' to _N'awlins_, raise _yo'_ hand!"

Ellis and Coach both raised their hands. After looking around for a few seconds, Rochelle also slowly raised her hand. "Then it's _settled_!" Coach said, and walked over to where the Zebra Cakes were stashed in a corner. "Woah, woah, _woah_!" Nick yelled, tugging on the big man's arm. "Come on, New Orleans is, like, a _thousand miles away_ or something! We're not gonna just _walk there_! Let's _at least_ check out Birmingham first on the way!"

Coach solemly shook his head. "Sorry, Nick. That's _democracy_. We voted. _End o' story_."

Nick grumbled to himself for a few moments, taking a swig of water in between disgruntled mumbles. "Wait, first things first, guys," Rochelle slowly said, holding her hands up. "Let's not get _too_ far ahead of ourselves, here. We still gotta get out of this mall, and like Nick says, we gotta find some way other than _walking_ to New Orleans. Let's concentrate on _those tasks_ first."

Ellis looked up again. "I still think that car's a good idea. Course, there's the issue of gettin' it outta the mall, but that sucker gets somethin' like _fifty miles per gallon_! We could be like _soccer moms_ in a _zombie 'pocalypse_!"

"_No_."

"Not happenin'."

Ellis sat down cross-legged, somewhat dishearteningly. "Well, I haven't heard any o' _you guys_ suggestin' any _bright ideas_..."

Nick paced around for a moment, then stopped and stared at the wall. "Who's _this_ douche bag?"

He was pointing at a poster that had a tall, aged race car driver on it. He had his hands on his hips triumphantly, wearing a racing suit. A blue and white car was behind him. Ellis's eyes widened almost comically as he stood up, and said, "Aw, _SHIT_! That's _Jimmy Gibbs Junior_!"

Nick sneered at it, arms crossed. "_And_? Looks like some old Talladegan _has-been_ from the _armpit of Alabama_. He any good?"

"He any _good_?" Coach repeated incredulously, walking towards the poster. "Man, that's _Jimmy Gibbs_! He's _real famous_ 'round _this_ part o' town. You mean you ain't never _heard o' him_? Shit, back in the seventies, he was the _king_! I'd say, 'round here, he was more popular than, hell, Michael _Jackson_."

Rochelle peered at the poster closely. "It says he was going to be here for pictures on October 14th for the opening of some part of the mall."

Ellis gasped, and took a few stumbling steps back. "You mean I could'a met Jimmy Gibbs _Junior_? Right here in _Savannah_? Aw, _man_. This 'pocalypse _sucks_."

Nick popped a cashew from a package into his mouth and said, "Well, if he was gonna be here, then I'd bet you six hundred that his car would be, too. I'm serious. Anyone wanna take me on that? No?"

Behind him, Ellis stood straight, and declared, "A'ight. I got a plan. We go find Jimmy Gibbs's car and take it outta here. Man, _screw_ that Toyota Prius! We would be drivin' _pure royalty_. Ain't like we got nothin' better to do."

Rochelle wiped her forehead, and asked, "So, is that the plan? If we see the car on our way out, we'll take it. But I'm pretty sure it'll be easier to just walk out of this mall."

"Let's go, then!" Coach yelled cheerfully, and opened down the door. Nick shrugged and followed the others.

They immediately entered a huge, tall atrium from a balcony that looked over the area. Skylights poured the late afternoon rays of sun into the room, illuminating the swirling dust like magic. A few infected strolled around below them. The area looked like a recently abandoned construction project; sawdust littered the floor, and panels of wood covered areas that weren't meant to be seen. And down on the first floor was a showcased blue race car with a white stripe running down it. A giant poster of Jimmy Gibbs Junior stood triumphantly above the display. "Oh, my god," Ellis whispered, gazing down at the car. "It's like... it's like I was _meant for it_. Y'know? Like... somehow, me an' that race car were _meant to be_. Jimmy Gibbs Junior, _please_ forgive me for soiling the holy legacy you've left beh-"

"Come on, let's not fuck around," Nick stated, walking across the balcony to an elevator. "It's gonna be dark soon. Hey, do show cars have any gas in them?"

Coach was looking down at the car too with mournful eyes, until he ripped his gaze from it and replied, "Nah, I don't think. Maybe we could _scavenge 'round_!"

The four reached the elevator as Nick pressed on the "1" button. The doors snapped shut and the elevator began to smoothly descend. "Alright, that makes things a bit more complicated, I guess," Rochelle admitted, adjusting her hair bun. "Maybe there's gas stowed someplace around here, for that car, like Coach says. Hey, don't we need the keys to even get it _started_?"

Nick shook his head. "Don't worry, I know how to hot-wire it. Just focus on getting the gas. I think _that's_ our main issue here."

The elevator came to a stop at the bottom, and the doors slid open slowly. And then, the completely illogical happened.

Every single zombie in the city of Savannah, Georgia discovered their presence.

"HOLY _FUCK_! Why?" Nick yelled in response to the roar of infected around the mall. "Find a can and take it to Ellis! Ellis is in charge of filling the car. Coach guards Ellis, since they both like the _FUCKING CAR SO MUCH_," he screamed, shooting three incoming zombies down. "Rochelle, you're with me! Let's GO!"

The team ran, diverting to their specific tasks. Hundreds of infected began spewing into the atrium, rivaled only by a plentiful number of guns. Within seconds, Nick and Rochelle each found the first two gas cans, and began hauling them to Ellis and Coach.

"How many of these things are we going to need?" Rochelle gasped as she handed hers to Ellis. "I dunno. 'Bout eight, I reckon!" Ellis grunted in response. Nick handed his off, as Coach guarded them from the infected. Nick tugged on Rochelle's arm, and yelled, "Come on! We just need three more trips! That can't be too bad! Right? _Right_?"

Behind them, a hooded zombie suddenly pounced on Coach, pinning him to the ground. "Aw, shit!" Ellis yelled, and started kicking at the zombie. "Get off 'im! _Damn_!"

The hooded zombie whipped up to glare at Ellis, and screamed. Ellis screamed back in terror, as Rochelle sniped its head off from afar. She gave him the thumbs up as Ellis stood frozen in place.

"We got it!" Nick yelled a few moments later, he and Rochelle each carrying another can. "Let's make the trip back!"

There was a sudden rumbling of footsteps.

A gigantic, muscular zombie suddenly burst out of a metal door, which bounced along the ground like a paper clip. It roared at them, a tiny head perched upon a monstrous body. It knocked over information booths, chairs, and tables, swiping away everything in it's path.

"AGH!" Rochelle screamed in utter terror. Nick's eyes widened, and he ran towards Ellis and Coach, carrying the gas can precariously.

"_SHOOT IT_!"

Ellis was busy emptying the first can into the car when a giant chunk of concrete, ripped fresh from the ground, collided into the wall behind the car. It was mere inches from taking off Rochelle's head. "_HOLY_-"

"A'ight, I'm throwin' a molotov!"

Seconds later, the monstrosity was ablaze in a roar of orange fire. It howled in agony, and swung its fists towards them. Rochelle jumped out of the way as the hand slammed into the floor, cracking the tile. "Shoot, damn it!" Nick yelled, shooting the creature behind it. Rochelle aimed her sniper rifle, and took out the thing's brain in one final shot. It collapsed dead on the floor in a huge heap.

The four stood around it, panting. Coach looked at the two, and yelled, "Well, don't just stand there! We just _halfway done_!"

Rochelle and Nick exchanged glances, and ran off to collect more gas.

Half a minute later, Nick and Rochelle found two more cans on the third floor balcony of the atrium. "Got it! Let's get back!" Nick declared, when a vaguely familiar creature stepped towards them. The long trail of green glowing spit dripped out of its mouth; its jaw was unhinged. "Oh!" Rochelle recalled, stepping backwards. "That's a... that was that _Spitter_ thing from earlier! Christ, _kill it_!"

Nick dropped his can and fired three shots into the Spitter, killing it instantly. He retrieved the can, cautiously stepped around the puddle of acid, and yelled, "Come on! We gotta make it back! Only two more after this!"

They reached Ellis and Coach to find Ellis currently being pummeled into the ground by the zombie with the one giant arm. "Damn! Help me get this fucking Charger thing off 'im!" Coach yelled, panicking.

It was significantly harder to kill than the Spitter from earlier. Ellis painfully got up, rubbing his ribs sorely as he was handed the first gas can. "Thanks, y'all..." he muttered, pouring the can into the car amorously. "I'll be drivin' you _real soon_, girl..."

Nick and Rochelle went off to find the last two gas cans, wherever they might be. The infected just kept coming and coming, wave after wave, leaving Ellis and Coach to fight them off with the weapons they had. A minute had passed, and the other two weren't back yet. "Where the hell are they?" Coach mused to himself, looking around the atrium.

Just then, he spotted the two galloping down the stairwell, a small hunched over creature following them, cackling menacingly. Ellis yelped, remembering the strange "_Humper!_" from earlier. Just then, it leaped onto Rochelle's head, making the gas can clatter to the floor and steering her away from them. "Ahhh! _Help_! It's _riding me_!" she cried, beating on the zombie with her fists. "Shit! Don't shoot her on accident!" Nick yelled. Coach aimed his combat shotgun at the unwanted passenger, and fired. It fell to the floor with a thump. Rochelle looked at it shockingly. A stray pellet had zipped through her hair, burning the edges. She gathered her senses, scooped up the gas can, and tossed it to Ellis, who set upon the task of emptying the last two cans. "_Hurry_!" Rochelle yelled. There were hundreds of infected making their way towards them, shrieking and screaming. And then, there was another great thumping of footsteps. "Ah, shit!" Coach declared, looking in horror at the horde.

The monster burst into the atrium as Ellis threw the final empty can onto the floor, and ran over to the driver's seat. "Buckle up, everyone! That thing's like a fuckin' _tank_!"

The four rapidly climbed into the car as Ellis realized stock cars don't actually need keys. He revved up the gas, unhooked the parking brake, and drove forward, whooping and shouting, "Next stop, _Atlanta_, y'all!" The race car smashed through the front doors of the shopping mall, finally free at last from the confines of Savannah.

* * *

NOTE: Wow! That took a long time! Mainly because I had to adjust to writing for our lovely new characters, but also because I have been procrastinating. Like I said, three campaigns in a row isn't exactly exciting. And, y'know, this IS my longest chapter yet, even longer than Millhaven and No Mercy. Also, I made my deadline! That's the first time I've set one. Maybe I should do it again? Sometimes I just lose motivation. I do want to finish this story really badly, though! There's a lot planned.

Anyway, next stop, The Sacrifice. Are you ready? We'll finally see our survivors again, and say goodbye to them, and then promptly see them again in the chapter after that. This is crazy. Also, I feel like Valve really forced the two groups to meet, because it doesn't make any sense when you realize the chances of such a meeting, but whatever. That's just me. I guess the fans really wanted closure, I don't know. I didn't actually start playing the Left 4 Dead games until like early 2012.

Review, follow and favorite! I realize a few of my regular readers have left in my 3 week absence of updates, which is disheartening. I'm hoping to keep making once-a-week chapters, but that gets pretty taxing. Just keep checking for updates! I'm not gonna be quitting this fanfiction anytime soon.


End file.
